The Misadventures of Harriet Potter
by Redbayly
Summary: A collection of story ideas, one-shots, and vignettes similar to those found in 'Little Bouts of Randomness' that focus on a young woman named 'Harriet Lily Potter.' Fem!Harry. May have bashing. Will likely involve a crossover or two.
1. The 'Marvelous' Marriage

**In a similar fashion to my "Little Bouts of Randomness" I decided to create a folder of genderbent!Harry stories which I have intentionally separated from LBoR as fem!Harry stories are not everyone's cup of tea. I, however, enjoy a good Harriet Potter story.**

 **While I admit that most fem!Harry stories are just a way of shipping Harry with a male character without it being gay, this collection of story ideas and one-shots is not like that. Well, not entirely. I do also admit that I sometimes think up stories (usually crossovers) involving a female Harry primarily because I don't want to ship Harry with another guy (If you like Harry in a gay relationship, that's your business, but I just cannot picture it. I am very particular about what male fictional characters I ship together and in what fandoms, and Harry Potter is not included in that list).**

 **Most of these stories, however, are going to follow in a similar fashion to my LBoR stories. Less focus on romance, more on the story itself.**

 **And now: My response to the marriage contract fic. It's a traditional opener for one-shot collections.**

 **I do not own Harry Potter. "Harriet Potter" is a complete fanfiction contrivance, though a popular one. And, if I may say so, a very entertaining one if done correctly.**

The 'Marvelous' Marriage

"It really is for the best, Cornelius," said Lucius Malfoy with a deceptively charming grin.

"Yes, yes," Fudge said, twiddling his thumbs. "I wish it didn't have to come to this, but something must be done to stop those dreadful lies the Potter girl has been spreading."

"Quite."

"And you're sure she'll be kept in check by this?"

"Of course, Minister. Once the Potter girl is married to my son, her unfortunate habits of lying will be curbed."

"Yes, and I suppose it is best having an heiress and a national treasure like the Girl-Who-Lived married to a respectable pureblood like young Draco. It's an excellent way of bringing her fully into wizarding society." Fudge then frowned slightly. "But are you sure the two will get along? After all, rival houses at school and the old blood-feud between the Potters and the Malfoys and that sort of thing. Not to mention the fact that young Draco already has a fiancée."

"I am certain this will help resolve those differences. And, of course, young Astoria Greengrass will be Draco's primary wife, but I am confident both young ladies will be fine with the arrangement. Especially as Draco is generous enough to allow them to share him."

"Quite, quite. Well, Lucius, I must get on with my work. And congratulations. I look forward to the wedding ceremony."

"Thank you, Minister."

* * *

Harriet had never been more grateful for wizard cigarettes than that moment. They had none of the awful life-threatening and disfiguring qualities of regular cigarettes, to say nothing of not having the dreadful smell, but they still had the pleasant rush and stimulation that she so desperately needed at that moment.

"How can they force you to marry?!" Hermione raged. "Especially to a little prick like Draco! It's absolutely barbaric and sexist and…!"

Harriet was too busy worrying to pay much attention to her friend's rant. Ginny was patting her hand and trying to reassure her they wouldn't let anything so horrific happen to her. Ron had gone up to the boys' dorm to rally the Gryffindor lads to battle for the honor of their housemate (it seemed chivalry was not as dead as people thought).

"There has to be some kind of loophole," Hermione said thoughtfully once she'd worn out her rant.

"Hermione, the minister signed the forms officiating a betrothal contract and submitted it to my magical guardian, who unfortunately happens to be Dumbledore," said Harriet. "Dumbledore, in his _infinite wisdom_ , believes it's the perfect opportunity for me to spy on the Death Eaters and also bring Draco 'back to the light' by showing him love." Harriet looked decidedly green.

"Have you checked your family bylaws?" said Ginny. "Court-mandated marriage contracts can't touch you if your family bylaws come into conflict."

"I don't know my family bylaws. Is there a way to get a copy of them?"

A few hours and one letter to Gringotts later and Harriet had a small book filled with Potter family laws. It was accompanied, oddly enough, by a copy of the Black family bylaws as Harriet had been made Lady Black (apparently, Sirius had named her his heir and, as he was still a convict, his legal status as head of the house of Black had immediately passed to Harriet). There was, unfortunately, nothing against marriage contracts in either set of bylaws, but Hermione noticed certain things within the complicated texts that would turn the tide decidedly in their favor. Once the Malfoys realized just what a marriage into the Potter family could entail, they would be begging to get out of it.

* * *

"Harri, my girl, I really think I should be the one to negotiate your marriage contract," said Dumbledore in his infuriatingly condescending manner.

"I'm sorry, Headmaster, but Potter bylaws state that only a Lady Potter may negotiate any marriage contracts," said Harriet, trying to hide her smirk. "One of my ancestors installed it as a way of keeping the Potter women from being exploited." She gave him a pointed glare before continuing. "As you are not a lady, nor a Potter, nor even a Black, I fail to see how you have any claim to make decisions regarding this arrangement."

"I am your magical guardian."

"And while that may have allowed you to undermine my wishes because of legal finagling, I still retain the right to decide how this goes down as, being the last of my line, I have automatic rights to my titles and all the duties those entail. Now, either you can see yourself out or I can have Kreacher toss you out."

There was a faint 'pop' and, while the insane old elf was invisible, Harriet knew he was just waiting for an excuse to do something unpleasant to the headmaster. Ever since Harriet had fully claimed her position as Lady Black, the elf had directed his fanatical loyalty to the Blacks to her. While the elf probably secretly harbored a wish that Harriet would marry a 'respectable pureblood' (and would heartily support her marriage to Draco in particular), he understood that this contract was an attempt to steal from his new mistress and would pose a threat to the Black family.

Dumbledore wisely decided to leave of his own accord.

"All right, Lucy," Harriet said as she pushed open the doors to the Ministry conference room to confront Mr. Malfoy. "Keep your worthless trap shut and read this."

She slammed the prenuptial contract onto the table and stared down the man and the handful of ministry lackeys he'd brought with him. Draco and his mother sat to one side of the table. Astoria Greengrass and her sister Daphne were there too, with their parents. Narcissa looked worried, it seemed she probably sensed something was going to happen. Daphne was glaring at Draco, while resting a sympathetic hand on her little sister's arm, but had turned and shared a look with Harriet (they'd made a deal for Harriet to find a way to get Astoria out of her own contract with Draco).

"What is this?" said Lucius, picking up the paper.

"The contract I insist on," said Harriet.

"'No Malfoy will touch so much as a sickle of Lady Harriet Lily Potter-Black's money'? How do you intend to enforce this one, girl? Draco will receive control over any money or property owned by his wife."

"If said wife takes the name of Malfoy, which the next section shows I will not. I reserve the right to preserve the names of Potter and Black in accordance with family bylaws."

"WHAT?!"

"As I am Lady of two houses, I may combine bylaws. I retain both names as well as singular ownership of the titles in accordance with Potter family bylaws which have become combined with those of the house of Black. Potter bylaws allow me, as the last heir and as a woman, to keep my name and title."

Lucius was furious. A large part of his plan had been to take control over Potter's money and titles. However, there was a possibility this could still work.

"'The dissolution of the marriage contract between Astoria Greengrass and Draco Malfoy'? How dare you, you little bitch?! That contract was formed ages ago between the houses of Malfoy and Greengrass! You have no control over it!"

"Actually, you'll find that I do," Harriet said, exchanging a smug grin with the Greengrass sisters. "Astoria, Daphne, and I had someone look very carefully over that contract and discovered it was built upon a proviso that Draco would become head of the house of Black, which is never going to happen. In fact, the magic you used to enforce that contract came from a debt owed by house Greengrass to the _Blacks_ , not the Malfoys. I'm still not sure how you got power over that debt, but I have the power to take it back. In fact, I'm going to that now."

She turned to the Greengrasses and smiled.

"Lord Cyrus Greengrass, as Lady Black, I recognize the debt you owe to the house of Black and ask only that you never put any descendants of the house of Greengrass into marriage contracts and make such a thing a proviso within your family bylaws."

"As Lord Greengrass," said Cyrus with a grateful smile. "I accept."

There was a flash of light, signifying the fulfillment of the debt by means of canceling the Malfoy marriage contract and an automatic magical amendment to the Greengrass family bylaws. Only powerful magic could ensure a change in a family's bylaws, otherwise Harriet would have simply changed her own bylaws to forbid any marriage contracts. With that, the Greengrasses excused themselves, offering their thanks to Harriet as they left.

"Anything else outrageous and unreasonable in this contract?" Malfoy demanded.

"Why, yes, there is," said Harriet. "Though I don't see it as unreasonable considering you were the one who forced this ridiculous situation in the first place."

"'Termination of the marriage of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy and reclamation of Narcissa into the Black family'?! You go too far, you insolent -"

"I simply felt that, as Lady Black, that means Draco is technically related to me and I find all this inbreeding very disgusting."

She shared a look with Mrs. Malfoy, the woman seemed impressed and, possibly, hopeful.

There was a sudden knock at the door.

"Ah, that must be my wedding planners," said Harriet. "Do come in!"

Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna, and a large portion of Gryffindor house and the D.A. bustled in with packages and papers and all manner of odd accoutrements. Fred and George oversaw it all, reading from a giant list.

"What's going on?!" Mr. Malfoy shouted.

"I just told you that it's the wedding planners I hired," said Harriet. "Or, rather, your wedding planners which _I_ selected. It's right there in the contract that I get to select the wedding planners but the Malfoy family has to pay for _everything_."

"And we certainly have our work cut out for us," said Fred.

"Indeed we do," agreed George. "What with the Ferris wheel and the flying wedding carriage…"

"And the conjured lake of chocolate pudding."

"That one was my idea!" said Luna.

"To say nothing of the open bar."

"That one was _my_ idea," said Ron.

"Say, Lucius," said Harriet. "What accent colors do you think would work best? Gold Fever or Summer Lilac?"

"Enough of this nonsense!"

"You're right, Real Expensive Sapphire is the best."

"You will cease this at once! I refuse to sign such a contract! I'll decide what will and will not be included in the contract. You'll be lucky if I don't include a proviso to make you Draco's slave."

"I'm afraid you don't get to make that decision, Lucy," said Harriet. "You see, my family bylaws state that it is the Lady of the house of Potter who has singular authority over marriage contracts. Any family who tries to enforce a contract on a member of the Potter family must agree to the conditions set forth by the _Lady_ Potter or else any legal claim to a contract will be immediately voided."

"You-you can't do this," Lucius sputtered. "I had an agreement with the minister."

"Yes, another interesting thing about this is that, according to the _Black_ family bylaws, any government official who attempts force or assists in forcing a betrothal contract on an heir, heiress, or head of the Black family without the head's permission shall come under legal prosecution up to and including public execution. It apparently dates to the Saxon times as it is very obviously a wergild law.

"My attorneys are currently having a few words with the minister. I am certain we will be hearing about it soon."

The door opened with a slam and Amelia Bones stood there, accompanied by several aurors, the shackled Minister Fudge, and Harriet's lawyers.

"Lady Potter-Black," said Madam Bones, clearly concealing her enthusiasm for finally arresting the corrupt and incompetent minister who had plagued the government for too long. "I believe this is the individual who has violated your house bylaws? Will you be pushing for execution or will Azkaban suffice?"

"We'll see how things turn out at his trial. More than that idiot deserves, I'd say, wouldn't you, Madam Bones?"

"Quite. Have a good day, Lady Potter-Black. Oh, and, Lucius, don't leave the country anytime soon."

Harriet turned back to face the horrified Lucius Malfoy.

"Now, then, Lucy," she said. "Will you be accepting my terms or shall we just call this whole sordid business off?"


	2. Time-Travel and Terrible Twins

**The biggest influences for this were the fic "Dodging Prison and Stealing Witches" by LeadVonE and partly from "Let's do the Time Warp Again" by Rorschach's Blot. Male!Hermione, male!Luna. It will likely involve a mixed gender harem.**

 **Warning for dark and often disturbing things including mentions of child abuse. Thus, I have decided to up the rating for this collection.**

Time-Travel and Terrible Twins

Harriet Potter sat alone in the old, rundown house where she was currently hiding out. She could never stay in one place too long, the thousands of people that were out for her head might catch up with her. It probably wouldn't be so bad if it were _just_ the Death Eaters and Voldemort out to get her (in the grand scheme of things, they were fairly pathetic villains), but the entirety of magical Britain wanted to get their hands on her, plus a few nasty wankers she'd met in other parts of the world.

Her biggest problem, though, was her jackass of a twin brother, James Potter Junior. For a while, he'd just been an annoying little prick with a humongous ego, but it became clear as years went on that he was actually a full-blown psychopath. Ever since that fateful Halloween, Junior had been touted as the "Boy-Who-Lived" and given everything he wanted as the savior of the wizarding world, Champion of the Light, etc. All this because Albus "Dipshit" Dumbledore didn't want people knowing who the true Chosen One was.

Harriet lit up a cigarette and leaned back into the old, worn armchair as she pondered the events that had led to her current situation.

Dumbledore knew that the prophecy concerning Harriet and Voldemort wasn't the only prophecy about her. Apparently, not long after the first prophecy was given, Trelawney had made another one. It basically boiled down to how the one to defeat the Dark Lord would become the most powerful magic-user in the entire history of the world and would go on to rule supreme over all the wizarding world.

Harriet had never had any designs on becoming an overlord, until she realized how incredibly fucked-up the wizarding world truly was. Wizards and witches tended to be sheep by nature and would bend over for whoever had the most power. Dumbledore, of course, couldn't allow anyone other than himself to wield that kind of power and therefore attempted to subvert the prophecy and rearrange it according to his wishes.

That meant Harriet would have to be as weak, ignorant, downtrodden, and unloved as possible.

Well, his plans seemed to have worked, for the most part. Only, it hadn't worked out quite the way she believed the old man expected it to. Voldemort was still rampaging around Britain, three-quarters of the magical population were dead, James Potter Junior was the legal evil overlord (by way of being elected Minister of Magic for life), Dumbledore himself was dead, and Harriet's status as the real one to defeat Voldemort had been revealed, only she had no intention of saving the ungrateful bastards of the wizarding world (hence, her evil brother trying to have her captured and _made_ to do their dirty work before either being disposed of or sold into a marriage contract with one of her brother's lackeys to keep her in line).

"Oh, how the ones who should be mighty have fallen," said a sly, sultry voice from a dark corner of the room.

Harriet gave a wry smirk and took a deep drag from her cigarette.

"Wondered how long before you decided to visit me again," she said.

"It's our night, my dear."

"All Hallow's Eve so soon? I've rather lost track of time, I'm afraid."

"Not to worry, Harri. I, at least, know to remember anniversaries. And I have a little gift for you."

"Really, now," said Harriet with a short laugh. "When you've already allowed me to take control of the Hallows, it doesn't seem right to give me anything else."

A vividly white, sharp-toothed grin split the shadows from which the voice emanated. When she was seventeen and had taken control over the Deathly Hallows, Death had visited her in person every year during the feasts of Halloween, All Saints, and All Souls. She still wasn't sure if Death was male or female, but she supposed it was probably above and beyond such earthly classification.

"This gift you will probably like considerably more than a twig, a rock, and a bit of old cloth," it said. "Those who oversee all fate have decided to give you an… _opportunity_ , if you will."

"What sort of opportunity?" said Harriet suspiciously.

"The Higher Powers have had a little meeting to discuss how your destiny should be rewritten. They're not angry with _you_ for things not happening as they should; in fact, they're quite impressed you've been doing so well considering how badly Dumbledore has screwed things up for you."

"I'm flattered."

"You should be. After all, it's not every day they decide to alter reality, even for a Chosen One."

"Ah, is this in regards to the Voldemort prophecy or the one that actually serves a _real_ purpose?"

"Both, I suppose, though more in regards to the latter. Your destiny was to become a supreme ruler of the magical world, reform it, and bring about a new Golden Age."

"And how do they intend for this to happen?"

"Well, my dear, they've discounted actual time-travel. Too much damage to time streams. Instead, they've devised to send your memories back to a younger version of yourself. You'll be physically weaker, owing to your age, but all the knowledge will be there. In effect, it is very much similar to time-travel."

"What's the catch?"

"No catch."

"Come now, all bargains with supernatural forces have a caveat."

"Well, there may have been a request for you to sow utter confusion and chaos among your enemies. And another suggesting you build a harem."

"A harem?" Harriet said dubiously.

"Yes. Men, women, both, it doesn't matter. Lust suggested that one, of course."

"What about Love?"

"Love thinks you should forgive everyone and die selflessly in the arms of your one soulmate. Well, it said as much right before Power and Magic slapped it."

Harriet gave a slight snort before thinking over the offer. Death then decided to sweeten the deal.

"They've also asked me to inform you of some political power that will be available to you. Some of it was already yours, but no one bothered to inform you of it. Firstly, the Slytherin lordship, which you already earned as a baby by beating Tom Riddle. Your old enemy had been stockpiling tithes he'd collected from his followers and storing them in the Slytherin vault at Gringotts, though he did not visit the place itself very often. It seemed he also never used any of the money he gathered, he preferred to rely on his followers to meet his needs."

"Typical rich miser," said Harriet. "Only wanted money as a way of showing how far he'd come from being the poor boy in the orphanage."

"Exactly, dearie. There's a bit of a fortune in there, plus what already existed in the vault."

"I thought the Gaunts squandered away their family fortune?"

"The Gaunts did, yes. But they were not from the main Slytherin line and could never get access to the vault as the last true heir was killed by Voldemort for the sole purpose of securing the lordship. Of course, as your magic killed Voldemort's body, Magic itself recognized your right of conquest. Oh, and Salazar asked me to tell you he'd be honored to have you as his magical heir if you agree to make his house great once again."

Dazed for a moment over the fact that Salazar Slytherin would gladly recognize her as his heir, Harriet was startled out of her thoughts as Death continued after a protracted pause.

"Another title open to you is the Peverell line, which was also already yours by birthright."

"Hold on a tic," said Harriet. "How is that possible? Wouldn't the lordship go to my… _father_?" She bit out the last word rather sourly. "The Peverell line joined with the Potter one, didn't it?"

"Actually, the Peverell lordship is really a ladyship," said Death rather cheekily. "Iolanthe Peverell was the last Lady Peverell as the title is matriarchal and can only be passed to a direct female descendant. It is mostly a political benefit that comes with the title as all remaining Peverell money went into the Potter vault."

"Unless I sue for its return," Harriet pointed out.

"That would not be beneficial. For one thing, Iolanthe's marriage into the Potter family was a financial one, all she had to her name was the Cloak and a pittance of a dowry. For another, you will likely end up with it all and more anyway if your brother meets the gruesome end he so richly deserves. Your parents would have no choice."

"Fair point. Only child, and perhaps even an orphan as well if I play things out right."

"I love how viciously vindictive your mind is, dear. Oh, one more benefit to you."

"Oh? Is there more?"

"Yes, those were just the things that were rightfully yours. Godric Gryffindor has asked if you will accept _his_ title, property, and magics."

"What? Why on earth should he ask that?"

"He never had any children of his own and all his worldly possessions and family magics have been gathering dust for a thousand years. Also, he didn't want to be outdone by Slytherin and wants his own house to be made great again. What better way than through a champion?"

Harriet gave a deep sigh. Apparently, she was doomed to be abnormal, even by magical standards. Still, three lordships, a fortune, and ancient family magics were not something to be sneezed at.

"Very well, I suppose we have an agreement," she said.

"Splendid, my dear! Now, then." The shadow-clad figure swirled like black smoke into a slightly anthropoid figure that seemed to be sitting in midair as it pulled a quill and parchment out of the swirling smoke around it. "One last little detail. When would you like your memories to be sent? I'd recommend your younger years. True, you will have to put up with your dreadful relatives, but it will give you an early start."

Harriet sighed again as she folded her arms across her chest and rested one leg over the other. She was not looking forward to reliving her childhood, or puberty for that matter. But Death had a valid point, she would need some time to get things set up properly.

"Five, I guess," she said. "Right around when I first started primary school. I have a few scores to settle."

"Are you sure that's not _too_ young?" said Death with concern.

"No, but it won't make much of a difference. I'm still going to be mentally older than my 'peers' when I get to Hogwarts. Five is the youngest I think I can go without being totally helpless. I need as much of an edge as I can get."

"Very well."

Death noted her decision on the parchment and put some finalizing stamps on it. It then asked for her signature, which she only gave after thoroughly scanning the document to make sure there wasn't any sneaky fine-print. Satisfied, she took the quill and signed her name with a bold flourish.

"Well, shall we?" Harriet said.

"Of course." Death smiled its shark-like grin and raised its hands, emitting a low, murmured chant that reminded Harriet of the voices from behind the Veil of Death in the Department of Mysteries.

Darkness engulfed her within moments and her world dissolved as her memories were sent hurtling back in time. Death watched on as the present shattered into a blank space before rebuilding itself into how it was supposed to be. Death looked up, still baring its sharp grin, as a proud woman seated on a golden throne materialized out of the nothingness that had transformed into the new present.

"Welcome back, my dear," it said. "Tell me everything."

* * *

Five-year-old Harriet Potter was asleep in her cupboard when her future self's memories dropped into her little skull. Nearly three decades' worth of pain, horror, heartbreak, magical knowledge, and vengeful rage suddenly manifested in the formerly timid and frightened girl's mind, filling her with an unholy wrath that would soon be unleashed upon all who dared oppose her. But first, she needed a snack.

After wandlessly unlocking her cupboard, she summoned a bag of crisps and began to munch on them thoughtfully, trying to think of a course of action. She needed a plan, a checklist, something to organize her thoughts. Hermes used to tell her that she probably had attention deficit because her mind went in five different directions without something to keep her on track.

But where did she want to start?

Curling up on the flimsy mattress and wincing as she bumped a bruise (apparently, it was one of _those_ nights) and fishing out another crisp, she tried to think of what would be a most pressing issue. Death Eaters needed to be neutralized, allies had to be gathered, her titles and properties were sitting around waiting to be claimed, the Dursleys were due some retribution (as were numerous other people), and the ministry was being its usual incompetent self.

That gave her pause. Being back in the hellhole that was her childhood residence, Harriet remembered the underage magic charges she'd gotten (first because of Dobby and then when she'd foolishly risked her own wellbeing to save Dudley). That lady from the Improper Use of Magic Office, Mafalda Hopkirk, had still been around when Voldemort had taken temporary control over the ministry and had been on pretty good terms with Umbridge. Who was it who had access to the information on muggle-born students? Why were there only a handful of muggle-born students at Hogwarts every year?

Something was rotten in the state of Denmark, as Shakespeare once wrote.

Vanishing the crisp bag when she was finished, Harriet cast a charm to check the time. Half-past twelve. Plenty of time for an impromptu visit to the ministry.

She summoned the Hallows to her (and they appeared, as she expected them to). Being Master over Death, the Hallows were hers by right in any universe or time as they existed outside the mortal realm. She felt Voldemort's magic on the Ring, and expelled the withering curse with a Parseltongue incantation, followed by a quick exorcism spell to remove the soul fragment. Another perk to being Master of Death was that the tricky entity shared a few secrets of ancient magic with her now and again. In truth, Voldemort's horcruxes were as pathetic as he was. Harriet had long ago suspected that the Dark Lord of the prophecy was actually Dumbledore, as he was a far more palpable threat due to his persona as a benevolent old mentor.

Voldemort was just a whiny little tool.

After re-locking her cupboard door, so the Dursleys wouldn't get suspicious in the morning, Harriet shrouded herself in the Cloak and apparated to the aboveground entrance to the ministry. She was a bit nauseous as she landed, her young body not yet accustomed to such a mode of transport, but she hadn't splinched herself, thankfully.

Entering the traditional red phone booth, Harriet dialed the code number. The wizards were too stupid or too complacent or both to bother changing it. It had been the same every single time she dropped in to cause trouble.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic," said the high voice. "Please state your name and purpose of visit."

"Harriet Potter," Harriet replied. "Here to review what's going on in the Improper Use of Magic Office."

There was a clink as the silver pin came out of the change slot.

 _Harriet Potter_

 _Inspector_

Harriet snorted to herself as the floor began to descend down to the atrium. When she ruled the wizarding world, she promised herself, no one would be able to just waltz into the ministry without being properly checked. Right now, she could have said she was there to assassinate the minister and it wouldn't have triggered a single alarm.

Ignoring the instruction from the voice to submit her wand to the front desk, Harriet strolled through the seemingly-empty building. She took the lift down to her destination, humming a little tune to herself. She was surprised that a light was on in the office.

Sneaking forward, thankful for her Cloak, she peered through the crack between the door and its frame. Inside, she saw old Hopkirk herself was there, speaking to someone on the floo.

"These names and addresses are quite sufficient, Mafalda," said a male voice from the fireplace. "Perfect for a little fun this week."

"Yes, such a pity I can't give you all the names," Mafalda replied. "But it would get suspicious if _no_ mudbloods turned up every year."

"Keep your eyes open for any mudblood girls around age five or six. You know I prefer to get rid of them while they're young."

Harriet's blood boiled as she realized her suspicions had been correct (her plan had just been to sneak around the office for any incriminating evidence). As soon as the floo-caller vanished, she wasted no time in bursting into the office and stunning the callous old bitch. She scanned the desk and located the list that Hopkirk had just read from to her conspirator and was incensed to see no less than twenty children, ages eight to ten (and in one case a four-year-old). Harriet really, _really_ wanted to make Hopkirk suffer, but she had to be patient, she needed to know who was behind this, though she had a few suspicions.

Harriet's legilmency would need some rebuilding, so she opted instead for a much quicker method.

" _Imperio_ ," she hissed sharply. "Tell me who you just sold out those children to."

"Lord Leopold Avery," Hopkirk replied.

"How long have you been working for the Death Eaters?"

"I have been an unmarked informant since the beginning of the war."

That was as good as a death sentence in Harriet's book, but she couldn't just off the bitch, it would raise too many suspicions and it was also a perfect chance to get an edge. The Death Eaters had used the Imperius as an excuse to save themselves from Azkaban, now that curse was going to be their undoing. It was almost ironic. Or was it actually ironic? She'd never understood what the proper definition was.

"You are to go about your duties and life as usual," Harriet said. "You are not to remember this conversation. But, whenever you inform Avery or any other Death Eater or their sympathizers of where muggle-borns are living, you are to send a letter with the list of names and address to…" She paused for a moment in thought. "To the Countess of Montresor."

She'd gotten a moment of inspiration from other tales of vengeance. The countess bit was an allusion to the Count of Monte Cristo (the most obvious choice), while Montresor was the name of the successful murderer in The Cask of Amontillado. All she'd have to do was set up an owl-mail box with the name and she would receive the information without an issue. She would do so the very next time she visited Diagon Alley.

"You will not remember sending me that information and you will not tell anyone."

Satisfied that she'd closed any loopholes, Harriet left the dazed older witch to sort herself out. Harriet had long ago perfected her Imperius by combining it with compulsion charms. She'd learned that leaving someone under Imperius for extended periods of time could make them act out and draw attention as they fought to overcome it (even some of the weakest minds made some attempt to escape control). By layering in a compulsion, though, it caused the Imperius to deactivate until it was necessary for them to act on their instructions or if a control word was given.

Essentially, it was a form of brainwashing enforced by magic.

Harriet had long since gotten over her aversion to using Dark and illegal magic, but the Imperius was the only one she used regularly (she preferred to be up-close and personal when torturing and killing her enemies, it was far more satisfying). Still, such victories had felt somewhat hollow as her enemies were often too stupid to realize what was happening to them, they were far too secure in their own sense of superiority.

Despite her incredibly callous nature, Harriet still had some odd sense of chivalry and honor. For a long time, she'd been dancing a conga along the neutral line, switching between lawful, true, and chaotic with an occasional side trip into neutral good. She didn't think she'd ever crossed into evil of any sort, as she wasn't entirely a selfish person, but she'd never been a "Golden Girl" by any stretch of the imagination. And she would certainly never sacrifice herself for anyone in the magical world, except for Hermes and Linus. They had been her closest friends because they, like Harriet, had been outcasts.

Harriet paused for a moment as she stood in the hallway outside the office. Hermes and Linus needed to be brought in on her schemes, they were two of the brightest young wizards in the world and she would not let them suffer the fates they'd had in the old future. That was another little note to add to her list.

* * *

Over the ensuing month, the Dursleys began to suspect that something odd was going on, and that it had something to do with their niece. Vernon and Petunia had already suspected that Harriet was a freak like her parents, but both had become determined to beat the unnaturalness out of her. The girl hadn't learned her place in the few years she'd been with them (still crying whenever she'd been struck or yelled at), until lately when she had begun to accept their demands and insults with an unnerving apathy.

However, when she did do things that angered them, they punished her severely. That, however, began to coincide with several _incidents_.

When they'd given the girl a thrashing for burning the breakfast, Vernon discovered that his car wouldn't start. Taking it to the garage revealed that someone had poured sugar into his petrol tank. That was perhaps the most mundane of the occurrences, others were far more bizarre.

Another time, they'd locked the girl in her cupboard for a week for not weeding the garden properly and the next day the entire garden was a wreck. Weeds of every sort stuck up from every corner, prized flowers were withered into ugly husks, the grass had turned a sickly brown, and the water sprinklers oozed a foul-smelling black substance.

Of course, the Dursleys knew their niece was to blame and punished her even more severely, only for the vicious cycle to start again.

Harriet was getting bored with such juvenile pranking. She'd given the Dursleys an opportunity to make a clean slate, but they wouldn't meet her offer. They just gave her more of the same abuse, and even upped the ante by beating her until she passed out at one point. Harriet was used to pain, though, at least because of her memories. And she, in her sadistic little heart, had been secretly hoping the Dursleys wouldn't back off because it gave her new cause to hate them and also played into part of her plans.

When people saw the poor, abused, little girl the Potters had abandoned splashed all over the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ , perceptions of the beloved Light family would change. Rita Skeeter would be _very_ useful in that regard.

Still, she wasn't done with the Dursleys. Just because she needed them alive didn't mean she was above cruel and unusual punishments. Also, she felt it was time to test whether Dumbledore really was interfering in her childhood to keep her abused and miserable.

Walking up to a nearby constable, she politely tugged on the hem of his jacket to get his attention. He looked down at her with a friendly smile.

"Hello, dearie, are you lost?" he asked.

"A bit, Mr. Policeman," Harriet said in her sweetest, most innocent tone. "My uncle gave me a note with the address of a young man I'm supposed to give these little bags of sugar to." Harriet held up the packets of cocaine she stolen from a local drug-dealer, having already planted others in Vernon and Petunia's dresser and some more in the beams of her cupboard.

"Ah," replied the policeman, trying to keep his voice calm.

"I always thought it was silly that man sells sugar on the street corner, but Uncle keeps the house full of it to sell to him."

"Does your uncle often send you out to deliver this…sugar?"

"He said he doesn't want people to know he sells it and he doesn't want to risk someone finding it in my cousin's backpack. He told me it wouldn't matter if someone found _me_ carrying it. So strange, all this fuss over sugar."

The policeman was trying desperately to keep the furious and disgusted look off his face.

"How much sugar does your uncle keep in the house, sweetie?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

"Lots and lots. He keeps some upstairs that I think he uses himself." Harriet giggled a bit. "That's probably why he's so tubby, he eats so much of it. But the rest he keeps in my cupboard."

"Your cupboard?"

"Yes, the cupboard where I sleep. It's not very good sugar, though. I tried some and it made me sick. Uncle got so angry he kept me locked in there a few extra days."

The constable's knuckles had gone completely white he was clenching his fists so hard and his friendly smile looked painfully forced.

"Why don't you come with me, sweetie, I'll make sure the sugar gets to the right person," he said, directing her towards the station (it was nearby as Harriet selected the constable for convenience of his location, she wanted this done quickly). "What did you say your uncle's name is?"

"I didn't. It's Vernon Dursley."

"You just come into the station. I'll have Constable Jones get you some biscuits. Would you like that?"

"I would, but I already ate two days ago. It would wrong to feed me until at least tomorrow."

* * *

"YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME! DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?!"

"Shut up!" the police sergeant shouted, punching Vernon in the ribs.

All the burliest lads at the police station had been called in for this one and all had heard about the little girl. Policemen take a very dim view of child abuse, at least in the muggle world (Harriet figured the wizards must not care, considering how frequent child abuse was in magical society. All she had to do was look at Neville Longbottom's history of nearly being killed by his great-uncle Algie during the attempts to force magic to manifest in the boy. Kind of like the reverse of Harriet's situation).

Harriet, of course, knew it wouldn't last as Mrs. Figg would likely have seen what happened and inform Dumbledore. Still, she had a pleasant few hours at the police station chatting with Officer Jones, having a cup of tea and some biscuits, and briefly imagining what life would be like if she never had to see the Dursleys again. She pretended to sleep on the sofa in the officers' lounge where the police had let her stay while they figured out what to do with her as the Dursleys would be spending a _very_ long time in prison.

She was not surprised, though, when Dumbledore made his appearance and changed the officers' memories. She pretended to be asleep when he came in to get her. There was no way she could allow him to mind-wipe her (just to be safe, though, she'd stored a copy of her memory of the day's events in a little bottle she kept in her pocket with a note informing her that if she were reading it then Dumbledore had mind-wiped her).

Deciding to play an expert ruse, she pretended to groggily awaken.

"Oh, hello, Mr. Dream-Genie," she said with a fake yawn. "Are you here to take me to the Dursleys again?"

She saw Dumbledore's beard crinkle in that annoying, grandfatherly way. Harriet bet it was because he was glad he didn't have to waste time memory-charming her because her childish mind would pretend the day's events had all been a dream.

Idiot.

"Indeed I am, Harriet," he said.

"Do I have to?" she said through another fake yawn (or was it real? She _had_ been up a long time and she was technically five).

"I'm afraid so, my dear girl."

Taking his hand and pretending to drift as he apparated her back to the house, she was already devising her next plot to mess with the Dursleys. It was much the same as the one that day had been, only much more severe. Even as Dumbledore set her back into her cupboard (the bastard knew where she was sleeping!), her brain teemed with endless schemes.

* * *

"Excuse me, Miss Policewoman," Harriet said to the friendly, apple-cheeked woman at the station's front desk.

"Hello, there, sweetheart," the woman said. "Did you lose your mummy and daddy?"

"A long time ago, ma'am. I came here to ask for some directions. My uncle said I was supposed to go to the house of a lonely old man who lives up the street and make him happy for a few hours and to bring back the money the man gives me. But I can't remember which house it is."

The policewoman froze. Just up the street was a man the police had been trying to pin in a string of child sexual assault cases but had never gotten any proof. Harriet, of course, knew all about the man in question as he had tried to lure her and numerous other underage girls into his house by offering them sweets in the memories she'd gotten (Harriet had only been spared because another girl had pushed her away and went inside, only to be seen a few hours later crying and in very rough shape).

"Why don't you go wait in the officers' lounge and have some tea and biscuits," the policewoman said. "I just have to have a quick word with the constable."

Several hours, another visit to a prison cell (this one filled with angry football hooligans) for the Dursleys, and another round of obliviations from Dumbledore later, Harriet was back in the cupboard. At least Dumbledore hadn't removed the child-rapist, his primary concern was getting the Dursleys out and Harriet back into their "care." Unfortunately for Harriet, he also modified the Dursleys' memories a bit so that they would still hate her but not chuck her out or improve her living conditions.

He also put a charm on her to make the police not trust her, which she removed as soon as he left. He also hadn't thought to wipe the police records either the first or second time (the old fool was getting careless) so the two incidents still existed on paper.

She was about to drift off to sleep when one of her alarms went off. She'd put up special charms around the houses of the muggle-borns who had been on Mafalda Hopkirk's list to let her know when an attack was imminent. She'd already smacked down the first one which had happened only a few days after she'd caught Hopkirk red-handed.

Wrapping herself in an illusion that made her appear as a giant, shadowy figure concealed in a dark purple cloak with the symbol of the Deathly Hallows embroidered in silver over the place of the heart, Harriet disapparated. The reason behind her disguise was simple; if the Death Eaters believed a powerful adult witch or wizard was fighting them, they wouldn't go gunning for her. She could easily fight under the Cloak, but it wouldn't be quite so satisfying. Besides, she wanted them to think someone was after them, it would make them panic.

People who panic make mistakes.

* * *

 **Author's Note** **: I chose Hermes as a male equivalent name for Hermione for obvious reasons. Linus, on the other hand, I chose from a bit of research. There is not an exact translation or equivalent of "Luna" in a male form, so I found a name that sounded similar to variations of "Luna." "Linus" was the closest match and it also means "flaxen-haired" which is equally fitting for a blonde character.**


	3. May the Magic Be with You

**On a Star Wars kick right now. Finally watched the second and third prequels recently (I actually don't think they're as bad as people say, though the first one was pretty dreadful).**

 **Also, Harriet's nickname is "Hattie" rather than "Harri."**

May the Magic Be with You

There was sand. Everywhere. Lots and lots of sand. Still, it was better than tramping around in the soupy mess that had been the last planet she'd tried to stop at. At least the ship was state-of-the-art, despite its unassuming exterior which resembled nothing more than an old, beat-up Winnebago with wings (her little joke, courtesy of a few charms to change the ship's appearance).

It had been several thousand years since she'd accidentally obtained the Deathly Hallows, and Harriet Lily Potter was still trying to make up her mind if that was a gift or a curse. On the one hand, all her original friends had grown old and died; on the other hand, she got to have that vacation the universe owed her, she'd fixed the problems of the wizarding world, and she'd become something of a goddess figure to the human race (it was complicated).

The stories about her being the most beautiful woman in existence were, she felt, highly exaggerated and very annoying. The stories about her being able to crush an entire planet in a matter of seconds were…not entirely untrue. Not that she used her powers for such a thing; though that didn't erase the titles of: Bringer of Death, Death Maiden, the Dark Goddess, Destroyer of Worlds, etc.

Honestly, one would think people would get more creative after so many millennia.

She fumbled out of her vehicle and looked at the little handheld device she carried with her. The readings indicated she was on the planet of Tatooine. She'd never been there before. And for good reason. Taking a look around her, she found the dingy settlement to be rather boring.

After checking her vehicle into the fueling station, she decided to try and find something to break the tedium. A smirk lit up her face when she found a seedy bar full of lowlifes and thugs.

* * *

Luke sighed in boredom as he waited for his uncle to finish searching for the parts to fix the vaporators. He'd been ordered to wait in the speeder unless his uncle needed him to help carry anything. It was ridiculous; Luke was eighteen now and should be doing more than moisture farming. He wanted so badly to get off Tatooine and get certified as a pilot, he didn't even care what he was flying as long as he could be up in the air and exploring the galaxy.

He was feeling a little rebellious and decided that, as he was an adult, he was going to take a look around. He didn't often get out to the more populated areas as he was almost always working, but he was dying to interact with people other than his aunt and uncle. His wandering led him into the local bar and he was unnerved as he felt numerous eyes watching him, as though they sensed that he was young and inexperienced.

He took a seat at the main counter next to a young woman in dark, close-fitting clothes. She looked young, not much older than Luke himself even, and was on the small side. Her skin was very pale, which contrasted sharply with her black, messy hair. He couldn't see her face as she wasn't looking in his direction, preferring to quietly focus on the strange, luminous concoction in the glass she held.

"Well, what do we got here?" said a rather unpleasant-looking man who had just walked in, leering at the young woman. "Move it, pipsqueak!" He shoved Luke roughly out of his chair, sending him sprawling to the floor.

"That was not very polite," the young woman said in a cold, eerily calm tone.

The burly fellow ignored her comment and took the seat.

"What's a pretty young thing like you doing all alone?" he said, baring his yellow teeth.

"That's none of your business."

"Well, I'll make it my business, sweetheart."

Luke stood up angrily. He had only been a bit irritated by being treated like that, but when the guy started making unwanted advances at the young woman, it caused his chivalrous side to flare up.

"Leave her alone," he snapped.

"What did you say to me, you little runt?"

The man stood up and punched Luke in the eye, knocking him to the ground again. But, before he could land another blow, the young woman kicked the man from behind.

"I suggest you leave or I will have to take action," she said.

"Oh yeah?" the man said with a sneer. "What are you gonna do about it?"

The woman gave a short sigh and, still holding her drink in her left hand, rose from her seat slowly, crossed the few feet of floor, and punched the guy with her free hand with such force that he was launched clear across the room and through the entrance. This was concluded by the sound of a crash from outside.

"That," she said.

Giving a satisfied nod at what she'd just done (which prompted everyone else to go back to what they were doing), she turned and offered Luke a hand up. He finally saw her face; her features were rather sharp and thin, but rather pretty, and her eyes were the most stunning shade of green. On her forehead there was a thin scar.

"You all right?" she asked.

"Yeah, I think so," said Luke.

"You're gonna have a nasty shiner from that hit, though. Come on, I'll buy you a drink."

They both took their seats and the woman ordered something for him. He didn't know what it was, not having been in a bar before that day.

"I'm Luke," he said, breaking the odd silence. "Luke Skywalker."

"Nice to meet you, Luke," the woman said. "I'm Harriet Potter. You can call me 'Hattie.'"

Luke stared at her for a moment. It was an unusual name, but he didn't say anything about it, not wanting to offend her.

"Do you live around here, Luke?" Harriet added.

"Yeah, I work on my uncle's moisture farm not far from here. I take it that you're a newcomer?"

"Just stopped in to get my ship refueled and checked for damages."

"You have your own ship?"

"Sure do. She's called 'The Marauder.' You like flying, Luke?"

"I love it, but I don't get the chance very often. My uncle won't let me join the Academy."

"That's a shame."

Luke's drink had arrived and he tried not to choke as it burned slightly going down. Harriet looked slightly amused as she watched him.

"Are you busy right now?" she added. "If you want, I can show you The Marauder."

"Really? That would be great!"

* * *

Emperor Palpatine opened his eyes after an extended period of meditation. He'd sensed something through the Force, something extremely powerful moving on the outer edges of his empire. Something very old and very dangerous. It was obviously not the Light energy of a Jedi, there was far too much darkness around it, but it wasn't quite Dark enough to be a Sith.

A tinge of fear ran through him. He'd sensed this thing before, though it hadn't manifested itself in this part of the universe for almost fifty years. It had mostly hovered far off in the distance, or disappeared completely for long stretches of time, or else been so far away that Palpatine almost couldn't detect it and did what he could to ignore it.

He remembered, when he himself was an apprentice, his own master had warned of an ancient being that was more powerful in the Force than anything. It was a being worshipped by both Sith and Jedi, though both orders revered it for different reasons.

The Jedi, fools that they were, told of a benevolent goddess who, in the form of a young maiden, travelled the universe bringing peace, kindness, and all the other infantile, goody-goody nonsense that Jedi liked to yammer on about. The Sith knew better, of course. The Sith legends spoke of a human woman who had become immortal by seizing power over Death itself, using her infinite powers for her own amusement and to sow chaos simply out of boredom. She was the most sacred idol of the Sith because she embodied total self-interest above all else.

But, despite their awe of her, she was the thing the Sith feared most because she could so easily destroy any empire they built just because she wanted to. No amount of pleading could sway her, as Palpatine's master had warned him. Darth Plagueis had himself encountered the being and was so traumatized by the experience he had collapsed in tears after recounting it.

If that being was here, Palpatine shuddered to think of what acts (unspeakable even by Sith standards) she was already committing.

* * *

Harriet eagerly led Luke to where her ship was docked at the fueling station. She noticed he seemed a little disappointed by its lackluster exterior, but she pulled him along regardless, explaining that things were not always as they seemed. Leading him up to the door, she clicked open a panel and placed her hand on it, stating: "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

The door opened and a step-ladder descended.

As soon as he stepped inside, Luke's jaw dropped in amazement. Inside of the strange-looking ship was a giant, marble-tiled reception room that was ten times the size of the exterior. There were several floors, a grand staircase, and an elegant fountain that was happily burbling away. It was not physically possible.

"Go on," said Harriet. "I know you want to say it."

"It's bigger on the inside," Luke replied, not knowing what else he could say.

"It's not much, but it's home."

"How-how is this even…? This shouldn't…"

Harriet smirked to herself. It seemed she'd found her newest travel companion. In the last few thousand years, she'd modeled her life somewhat on the example of Doctor Who. She would find someone living a dull, monotonous life, show them the wonders of the universe, and have lots of crazy adventures. She'd resolved to not travel alone if she could help it, eternity had gotten so tiresome without friends to share it with.

"The ground floor and basement are mostly the tech areas," Harriet explained. "Central control is down the hall to the left. To the right are the experiment rooms, laboratories, and med-bay. Basement is service and maintenance. Upstairs are the living and recreation areas. Oh, and the hallway at the top of the first flight of stairs goes to the flight deck."

"Excuse me, flight deck?"

"Yeah, that's where I keep my sports and racing ships."

"How did the people detailing your ship not notice this?"

"They're only doing work on the outside. It's mostly just refueling and checking for any damage to the wings. I went through an asteroid belt a few light-years back."

"This is just unbelievable."

"If you think _this_ is impressive, you should've seen the vacation palace a friend of mine kept in his luggage."

* * *

Obi-Wan had sensed the unusual presence land on Tatooine. It was not one he was familiar with, but it radiated power so great that it was a wonder even those not sensitive in the Force couldn't detect it. Thankfully, he detected no evil intentions from it, but it still had a dangerous quality to its aura. All he could really say was that it was something ancient, something beyond any mortal's control.

It could be a great ally in fighting the empire, or it could lay waste to the entire galaxy both good and bad.

Yet, despite its age, he felt a kind of childlike quality to it. A strong nature of Light that came into conflict with its Dark aspects until the two blended into a murky paradox of morality. Selfish but kind, honorable but cruel, jaded but optimistic. It made no rational sense but still it worked in such perfect harmony. It was strange, but not a danger to those who did not provoke it.

What great and wondrous things could such a being possibly be planning?

* * *

Harriet chuckled at Luke's expression. The kid was practically drooling at the sight of the small fleet of ships in the magically-created flight deck. She'd even shown him her three favorite ships: a large and classy Starfighter in yellow and black which was named _The Dauntless_ , a racing pod in fine light brown and white named _The Interceptor_ , and a sleek and imposing craft in richest black that was modeled partly on the Naboo-style royal starships and partly on the (now long-forgotten) B-2 stealth-bomber; this last one had been named _The Black Pearl_.

Being immortal for so long, Harriet enjoyed her little inside jokes.

"These are the single most beautiful ships in the entire galaxy," Luke said. He was pressed up against the hood of _The Black Pearl_ , lightly rubbing the smooth, black finish.

"Yeah, some friends back home helped with the design," said Harriet. "I haven't done any racing recently. You ever thought about competing in the major leagues?"

"I couldn't get into something like that." Luke gave a forlorn sigh. "My uncle will probably keep me on this sand dune forev-" He immediately shot up. "Oh, nertz! My uncle! I'm supposed to be waiting in the speeder!"

* * *

The confrontation with Luke's uncle was not pleasant. At least, it was for Luke. Harriet couldn't have cared less. It would take more than someone like Owen Lars to intimidate her or convince her not to take on a traveling companion she'd set her sights on. She made a simple offer to Luke to work as a copilot on her ship, and when his uncle raised protests about how it would leave him shorthanded on the farm, she'd offered him the use of any of the worker droids she kept on board her ship. She might be selfish, but she wasn't a total berk.

It took considerable effort (more than most of her other acquisitions of travel companions had been), but she came out of the argument triumphant. After all, Luke was legally an adult and should be allowed to make his own decisions; if he wanted to join her on her adventures through space, then he should be free to do so without being guilt-tripped.

She came to pick up Luke the following day, wanting to give him time to pack some things and say goodbye. He did make one request of her that she was happy to grant; that they would come back for the harvest so he could help his aunt and uncle. It wasn't the first time she'd agreed to such a request; though her companions generally started staying with her longer as time went on, though she'd done everything she could to make sure they never became estranged from their families.

"You ready?" she asked him.

"As I'll ever be," he said with a smile. He gave a final wave to his aunt and uncle before joining Harriet in the ship.

In a matter of minutes, they rocketed out into space.

* * *

In a distant galaxy much like our own, on a planet known as Dyaus Piter, an older man turned his silvery grey eyes up to the swirling red clouds and smiled.

"She's on the move again," he thought aloud.

"I beg your pardon, your majesty?" said his secretary.

"Send out the word to the people and to our allies," the man added. "Tell them the Master of Death is coming home soon."

The secretary turned pale at the statement. The Master of Death was the ancient goddess of the Terran race which had lived in their nine planet system for countless years. The goddess herself allegedly manifested around ten thousand years ago, during the earliest days of their race's space exploration. When the people, who had originated on the planet of Terra (then called "Earth"), had spread out of their system, the goddess bound the nine planets in a force field to keep them safe from the interference of the other galaxies when she saw the corruption running rampant through them.

The inhabitants of the nine planets were all pure Terrans, content to live in isolation from the outside systems which lost all knowledge of their existence. No one could enter the system without being told by the goddess herself, though they were free to leave whenever they wished. It was the greatest honor to live under the goddess' protection, especially since she would root out any corruption or villainy when it appeared in the system, by whatever means necessary.

Still, her return to Dyaus Piter, the largest planet of the system and the great capital of the alliance, was both unexpected and worrisome. Whenever she came to any of the planets in the system, it was often followed by various mishaps and unusual activities.

* * *

 **Author's Note : Not sure where a story like this would go. Probably lots of action, wacky hijinks, spaceship races, and awkward romance (I kind of like the idea of an all-powerful and ancient Harriet Potter with a disregard for the rules and a naïve and inexperienced Luke Skywalker pairing; he can teach her how to see things from more innocent eyes, and she can teach him how not to get his hand cut off by his evil father). **

**Basically, what happened is that Harriet has been around for ten-thousand years and still hasn't grown up (though she is very,** _ **very**_ **cynical) and runs around causing mayhem just because it's fun. Both the Jedi and the Sith have legends about her, though neither have the whole picture and regard her as the ultimate of both their orders. I would also probably include something about how the DA was the original organization from which the Jedi and Sith came.**

 **The name "Dyaus Piter" is a reference to the origins of the name "Jupiter." Basically, our solar system is Harriet's home and she'll protect it no matter what. Even if it means keeping it under Fidelius.**

 **If I'm up to it, I may actually write this one. Someday.**

 **Oh, side note for anyone who's been following "What Should Have Happened in Harry Potter", the Fanfiction administrators deleted it. Seems it violated the Fanfiction guidelines. I'm sorry about that.**


	4. What Did You Expect?

**A special treat for Halloween. In which I deal with one of the frequent tropes in Harry Potter (especially fem!Harry) fics. Also partly inspired by my own Halloween costume and decorations.**

 **Harriet's not really the central focus of the story, but it made more sense to have a female Harry in this setting.**

 **Also, includes a serious religious debate. If you are easily offended by stuff, piss off.**

 **Set in sixth year. Also, Harriet has a team of female friends who have been running a secret organization.**

What Did You Expect?

It was almost Halloween. Harriet's least favorite holiday because it had a tendency to screw with her life and cause her unnecessary trouble and stress. However, this year was going to be different. She had gathered together the Secret Order of Powerful Sorceresses (S.O.P.S. for short) for an important meeting. Harriet and Hermione had started the organization as a way of rallying support amongst the female students for the equality of witches.

While the wizarding world was not directly bigoted against women, as women often occupied important posts within magical society (what with there having been a female Minister of Magic as early as the 18th century), there were still some outdated ideas among the purebloods. And Voldemort himself planned to bring back some of the even more ridiculous laws about what witches could and couldn't do. From what Harriet could tell, there were maybe two or three female Death Eaters and all the rest were male heads of pureblood houses.

But that is irrelevant to the situation at hand.

"So, I think I've figured out what Draco Malfoy has been up to," said Harriet once everyone was seated.

"I'll get the jar of rats and the blowtorch," said Luna.

"Not right now, Luna. We'll discuss that later. Anyway, from weeks of monitoring him, I've discovered he's planning to murder the headmaster."

"Something we'd _all_ like to do, Hattie," said Daphne Greengrass.

"He's also planning to let Death Eaters into the school to cause havoc."

"I'll fire up the wood-chipper!" Luna exclaimed.

"Not right now, Luna!" said Harriet impatiently. "So, we'll set up preparations for the attack and take down the Death Eaters before they even know what's hit them. All agreed?"

"I would like to put forth a motion that we have tea and cakes afterwards," said Hannah Abbott.

The girls all nodded and muttered their agreement.

"Motion carries," said Harriet, banging a gavel against the table. "We will have tea and cakes when we're done. Now, I think Hermione had a suggestion."

"Thank you, Hattie," said Hermione. "As you all know, Samhain is just around the corner-"

"Uh, what's around the corner?" said Susan Bones.

"The ancient fall celebration. You know, to honor the harvest and appease spirits?"

"Doesn't sound familiar," said Tracey Davis. "Are you talking about Halloween, Hermione?"

"Yes," Hermione replied. "So, I was thinking that if we did some sort of ritual to honor the Goddess, that we could get some sort of boost in magical power. It would have to be at someplace sacred like Stonehenge so…"

"Wait, wait, wait," said Lisa Turpin. "This is sounding like that Wicca stuff."

"Well, yes, I drew the idea from reading about the ancient magical religion of Wicca."

"Uh, not very ancient considering it was invented pretty recently."

"What's Wicca?" said Daphne.

"It's a religion the muggles made up because they wanted to pretend they have magic powers," said Su Li. "It's also part of something known as 'neo-Paganism' but has more of a focus on the magical stuff. My dad said it was invented by people who played too much Dungeons and Dragons."

After pausing only a moment to wonder what "Dungeons and Dragons" was, Daphne turned back to Hermione.

"Hermione, what on earth makes you think we're going to do some made up religious ritual?"

"But, I did the research," said Hermione. "When I first found out I was a witch, I started studying what was available in the muggle world and saw information about the religion and thought it must be something from the magical world."

There was a pause and then the assembly of witches burst into laughter.

"Hermione," said Harriet patiently, "what did I say about believing something just because it's written in a book?"

"But, if British witches and wizards don't worship the ancient Celtic gods and goddesses, what do they worship?" said Hermione.

"Well, Hermione," said Su. "I don't know about you, but I'm a Methodist."

"Anglican," said Lisa, Hannah, and Susan.

"Roman Catholic," said Ginny and Tracey.

"Hindu," said Padma and Parvati.

"Zoroastrian," said Luna.

As the other girls chorused their respective religious views, Hermione sank into her seat in embarrassment.

"And you, Hattie?" she said.

"Hell, I don't know," said Harriet. "I used to go to the Episcopal church before Dudley started complaining that it was boring so my aunt and uncle stopped taking us."

"See, Hermione?" said Daphne. "I don't know what you've heard, but there's no ancient Celtic religion secretly worshipped by witches and wizards."

"But, I thought, because of the witch-hunts…" said Hermione.

"Hermione, that makes no sense," said Tracey. "Witches and wizards crop up in all walks of life. Sure a few of the surviving pagan Celts probably did have magical children even when England was mostly Christianized, but the Christians were in the vast majority by the time the Founders showed up. Just because the witch-hunts were done under the pretext of being for the protection of Christians does not mean Christian witches and wizards just up and abandoned their faith."

"I suppose, by your logic, that Italian witches and wizards worship the Roman deities," said Lisa. "And what was that crack you made about Stonehenge? Don't tell me you actually believe it's a religious site?"

"Well, Hermione isn't totally wrong on that front," said Susan. "I mean, it's not a religious site but it was an ancient meeting place for councils. At least, it was according to some of the documents on pre-ministry magical society, but even those are kind of dodgy considering how old they are. And Stonehenge was built around the same time as the Egyptian pyramids so a lot could probably have gotten lost in translation."

"Let's just say," said Harriet, who was getting really tired of the argument at that point, "that witches and wizards do not have their own magical religion. And we will not be participating in any rituals that make people uncomfortable. Now, shall we discuss our plans for the Halloween costume party?"

Harriet really didn't want to have a party for Halloween, but the others had all insisted earlier and she needed an excuse to steer the discussion back to where it should be.

* * *

When Halloween arrived, Harriet was in a slightly better mood than she usually was during the anniversary of her parents' murder. She could even safely say that she was enjoying Halloween for the first time in her entire life. In fact, she was helping Hermione with her costume since the much more book-smart witch hadn't come up with one herself.

"And what are you going to be, Hattie?" Hermione asked as Harriet fixed a golden wreath-shaped ornament in Hermione's hair.

"Oh, you'll see, Hermione," she said. "I want it to be a surprise."

"You know I hate surprises, Hattie."

"Trust me. This one will be good."

Hermione scowled at her friend, wondering what she could possibly be up to. Still, when Harriet announced she was finished, Hermione briefly looked herself over (not really paying attention to what costume her friend had assembled for her) and then went downstairs and headed for the Room of Requirements where the party was being held.

When Hermione entered the room, she was amazed at the imagination of the designated room-designer for the party. Then she remembered that it was Luna and strange yet creative displays were her specialty. There was very bizarre quality to the design of the room, as though it had been constructed in the middle of a close cluster of trees in an ancient forest. Green and purple lights illuminated the winding boughs of the tree walls and the canopy of leaves glittered overhead as though they were covered in fresh rain.

Despite this, there were traditional Halloween decorations. Jack-o'-lanterns floated in midair, skeletons covered in grey shrouds would occasionally drop out of the trees to startle unwary partygoers, and conjured bats fluttered to and fro without flying into anyone's face.

There was a hearty buffet of sweets and snacks, kindly provided by the house elves when the S.O.P.S. had announced their plans for a proper party (which the professors allowed to take the place of the usual Halloween feast as long as everyone was permitted to attend). Hermione was quickly swept onto the dancefloor as the pounding music summoned the revelers to obey its rhythm.

After a few minutes, Hermione noticed something slightly odd about her friends from the S.O.P.S. There was something about their costumes that nagged at her. All of them wore very bright, feminine, and glittery outfits which, while different, spoke of some kind of theme that she couldn't quite figure out.

"Enjoying the party, Hermione?" said a familiar voice behind her.

"Yes, Hattie, I -" she cut off as she turned to face her friend.

Harriet was dressed in a long red tunic with a green and blue tartan stole draped around her shoulders and pinned with a large bronze brooch. Around her neck was a golden torc necklace and she had matching gold bracelets. Her face was framed on one side by a thick braid, similarly adorned with little golden ornaments and was crowned with a wreath of dried flowers. Her face and arms were covered in spiraling designs done in blue paint.

"Like my costume?" Harriet said with an innocent grin.

Hermione then looked at their friends, who had started drawing closer to witness her reaction, and realized this had all been planned. Her friends had decided to take the mickey out of her for her flub at the meeting and had all come dressed as goddesses. She then looked at her own outfit and realized she was wearing a purple, Grecian peplos that had a peacock-patterned trim around the waist and down the sides.

"We thought that since you wanted to get power from ancient goddesses that we should humor you," said Harriet.

"And who am I supposed to be, exactly?" said Hermione.

"I would have given you an Athena costume, but Hera, queen of the Greek pantheon, was too much to pass up."

"You know what, Hattie? I really do hate you."

* * *

 **Author's Note : I get a little tired of the witches/wizards = Wiccans/Neo-Pagans trope in fanfiction. It works in some fics when it's relevant to the plot, like the ongoing fem!Harry series by Philosophize that I really like (though I admit I do tend to skip over the ritual scenes themselves). **

**I'm actually not sorry if this one-shot offends anyone because not only is the trope annoying, Wicca and neo-Paganism weren't developed until the 20** **th** **century with a bit of the groundwork being set by the 19** **th** **century spiritualist movement. The so-called rituals are completely fabricated and there is no verifiable proof that Stonehenge or any of the other henges were actually religious sites. And besides that, all the sources we have on the pre-Christian religion of England were written by people who didn't understand what the native Britons were saying or doing half the time and likely added their own interpretations on what the religions were.**

 **This isn't even an angry Christian's rant; this is an angry archaeologist's rant. If there's one thing my archaeology professor taught me, it's to not make grandiose assumptions about history just because the evidence looks like it could fit your idea of what happened. If there aren't multiple, reliable sources for it, chances are it didn't happen. Like assuming the erroneously-named "Venus of Villendorf" is a fertility/Mother goddess just because it has attributes to that effect. The person who made the thing didn't leave a written record of what it was, so we don't know what it was and no amount of theorizing or romanticism can change the facts.**


	5. Perfect Sense

**Voldemort clearly never read the Evil Overlord List.**

Perfect Sense

"Bwahaha!" Voldemort laughed evilly.

Harriet Potter and her boyfriend, Linus Lovegood, awoke at the noise to find themselves in the middle a dank, musty cellar. Stripped of their wands, but otherwise unrestricted, the couple shot to their feet to confront the maniacal madman and his group of inbred morons.

"So, Harriet Potter," Voldemort began. "My loyal followers finally captured you as well as one of your little friends."

"Yeah, on try two-hundred and eighty-three by my count," said Harriet.

"Silence! I am sure you are wondering what fate awaits you. Well, I can assure you it will be very unpleasant. You see, Harriet Potter, I discovered a ritual that will allow me to absorb all the powers of my archenemy. All it will require is the sacrifice of the enemy's virginity by myself and my followers."

Harriet turned decidedly green at the lecherous looks of the dirty old men who stood there leering at her from behind their master.

"You're right, that is unpleasant," said Harriet. "I feel unclean just breathing the same air as the lot of you."

"Shut up! Now, the ceremony will begin in only a few hours. Think on your coming fate while we leave you in here, unguarded, with a young man whose relationship to you we are uncertain of. Bwahaha!"

Voldemort turned and strolled out the door, followed by his lackeys.

"Sir, are you sure it's wise to leave a teenage girl whose virginity we need to sacrifice alone with a lusty teenage boy?' said one of the Death Eaters once they closed the door behind them.

"Yes, I am absolutely sure nothing will happen."

* * *

Meanwhile, in the cell, Harriet turned to Linus. While they hadn't actually gone that far in their relationship, they had been discussing the possibility of taking things to the next level.

"Well, I suppose this is as good a time as any," Harriet said.

"I know you wanted to wait awhile, love," said Linus. "But, I also know you don't want to go through something as awful as a gang-rape, especially not with Mouldywarts and his Butt Munchers."

"I know, Linus. It's just…I've always felt that…well, forgive me for being old-fashioned, but I always felt like sex was something that should only be done between married persons. I know, it's silly, plus there's no way we could get married in here."

"Of course we can, what made you think we couldn't?"

"Wait, we can? Don't we need a registrar or a minister or something?"

"Nope. Magical common-law marriage is still perfectly legal. All we have to do is hold hands, recite a binding vow, and then onto the consummation. And there's nothing silly about wanting to save your first time for your wedding night, I only wish it could be in a more romantic setting."

"So…want to get married?"

"I can't see myself with anyone else in the future. So, sure."

After a quick binding vow, their clothes did not remain on for more than five seconds. Robes flew up into the air as the newlyweds thoroughly and completely consummated each other. Repeatedly. In various positions.

* * *

Five hours later, Peter Pettigrew was sent to retrieve Harriet for the ceremony. Despite what you might think, he was in fact genuinely weighted with guilt over doing something so vile to the daughter of two of his former friends. Not to mention the Life-Debt he owed her for not killing him. If he could do something, anything, to assuage his conscience, he would take it.

He opened the door to find Harriet and Linus _in flagrante delecto_ , and several other things as well. Remembering what he'd learned about James and Lily when he and the other Marauders went to see them after the aurors had found them held prisoner by the Death Eaters, it simply proved the old proverb "like mother, like daughter." In fact, if Peter's calculations were correct, that had been the same night that Harriet herself was conceived.

"YES! YES! YES!"

This, of course, begged the question of what he was going to tell his master. Deciding that he was going to follow through on his silent promise to himself, he searched Harriet's discarded robes for a hair as the couple remained ignorant of his presence, entangled as they were in other matters. One of the few things he remembered from Potions class was the fact that Polyjuice allowed the drinker to turn into the person whose hair or other material was put into it exactly as they were when the bit was removed, up to and including the person's virginal state.

Peter's silver hand twitched slightly at the betrayal of his master, but Peter kept reminding himself that his master needed a virginal Harriet Potter so he was just giving his master what he wanted and the hand stopped wandering. After a quick nip into the potions cabinet, he had almost everything he needed. The only remaining question was, 'where to find a perfect patsy?'

* * *

"Ah, young Malfoy," said Peter. "Just the person I was looking for."

"What do _you_ want, filth?" Draco sneered.

"The Dark Lord has a special task for you that is of the utmost importance."

"Really? That explains why he forbade me from participating in the ceremony."

"Yes, that's exactly it."

The real reason Voldemort didn't want Draco involved was because he not only hated the annoying little wanker but he was worried that Draco's presence might jinx it. The boy had the most dreadful luck when it came to Harriet Potter, and Voldemort wanted no foul-ups. Also, Voldemort was in a particularly dreadful mood because of the migraine that had started up about five hours earlier and didn't want to exacerbate it by having to listen to Draco's grating voice.

"What do I have to do?" said Draco eagerly.

"It's a covert mission. Something that requires subtlety."

"Ah, perfectly suited for my talents, then."

"Just take this potion."

"What is it? Looks like Felix Felicis. I don't need luck, I rely on pure skill and talent."

"It's Polyjuice. You'll be disguised as an important public figure."

"But I already am!"

"Yes, well, you can't really do a mission like this disguised as yourself, can you?"

"No, I suppose not."

"Good. Now, take the potion, wait for it to take effect, and then I'll lead you into there to be briefed on your mission."

"Why am I taking it now? Why not until right before I leave?"

"Are you questioning the Dark Lord's orders? I should point out that he's getting impatient."

"All right, all right."

Draco took the potion and, in seconds, was transformed into Harriet Potter. While Draco was distracted, Peter put a silencing charm on him and then used the only transfiguration spell he knew, which turned male clothes into female ones.

"Very good, young Malfoy," said Peter. "Now, just follow me."

The doors opened and the two were met by the sight of the Dark Lord on his throne, surrounded by a horde of entirely male followers (the two female Death Eaters having excused themselves to take a late tea with Narcissa Malfoy). In places of prominence were the ones who had been in Azkaban and hadn't been able to relieve their pent up…urges for considerable time.

"Ahh, Wormtail, I see you have finally brought our guest of honor to join us."

* * *

And, while that was going on, Harriet and Linus were on round twenty-three. Harriet, oddly enough, wasn't too bothered by the dark and creepy atmosphere; in fact, thoughts of impending danger were miles away as Linus flipped over so that Harriet was on top again.

"OH, YES! YES! AHHHH!"

As they collapsed into post-coital glow again, finally exhausted, they realized they really should be planning their escape.

"It's not as though we could simply call for someone to help us," said Harriet. "I mean, even if we called for, let's say Dobby, there's no chance that -"

Harriet was interrupted as the house elf in question popped into the room.

"Missy Harry is calling Dobby?" said the house elf.

"Well, I guess it is that simple."

* * *

Harriet and Linus Lovegood-Potter were not seen at Hogwarts again. After their sudden departure, _The Quibbler_ posted an article glowing with congratulations to the couple on their marriage from the overjoyed father of the groom. A picture of the happy couple celebrating their official ceremony (as they admitted to having performed the actual bonding during imprisonment by the Death Eaters) accompanied the article. Everyone decided it was best not to comment on the fact that both Harriet and Linus were wearing bridal gowns.

Soon after, the bodies of Lord Voldemort and a majority of his Death Eaters were discovered. They had all died of what appeared to be a botched ritual that, according to the head Unspeakable, should have involved Harriet Potter to be successful (though the details of what Harriet's significance was to have been were carefully omitted). The less said about the state of the Malfoy heir the better.

Harriet Potter was given full credit for the defeat of Voldemort, but she didn't care as she and her husband were too busy enjoying their honeymoon in the Maldives to take notice of anything that did not involve a bed, a hot tub, a beach, or a flat surface.


	6. To Dwell on Dreams

**Middle-Earth kick. Fem!Harry. Istar!Harry, Sirius, and Teddy Lupin.**

 **Warning: Mentions of child abuse.**

To Dwell on Dreams

She remembered happiness.

Smiles and laughs of people who were content with what they had. They were small people, the adults often shorter than she was. They had been afraid of her at first, but slowly started to open their hearts to her. Her visits were rather sporadic, usually only happening when she was particularly upset, frightened, or in pain. Whenever she appeared, the kindly folk would dote on her and offer her good food and would sing and dance.

Those were the only times Harriet was happy, when she visited the little folk in the rolling green hills and sunny pastures.

Time passed, but though Harriet grew at what seemed a normal pace in her world, her friends in the other world got older and had children of their own. They still knew her and taught their children not to fear her, but it was still sad seeing them grow older and distant. One time she visited, and one of her friends wasn't there anymore.

The last time she visited, she was nine years old. She was in horrible pain; Uncle Vernon had been very angry that evening, and Harriet was left bruised and bleeding in her cupboard. She closed her eyes and awoke to the peace of the other world; her little friends leapt to help fix her up.

Belladonna was the kindest one of all. Harriet spent that last visit mostly with Belladonna and her family; Harriet and Belladonna's young son Bilbo would sit in the parlor and listen to tales of adventure and magic. The visit lasted a month, and Harriet was fast friends with Bilbo. Harriet wanted so badly to stay, but she felt something pulling her back to her world. Her final night in that wonderful place, she promised her friends she would find her way back to them.

* * *

 _Years later…_

Harriet leaned back in the chair, idly sipping the bottle of firewhiskey in her hand. She was nineteen, cynical, and abandoned. After defeating Voldemort at the age of seventeen, she quickly learned that, even with the bastard dead, the wizarding world would remain its useless, backwards, and bigoted self. There were constant demands being made by the ministry that Harriet refused to oblige, her friends were either dead or had proven to be simply using her, all her family save her godson were dead, and there was enough blood on her hands to fill an ocean.

To say nothing of the bounties on her head, the attempts to force marriage contracts on her, and being experimented on by the Department of Mysteries.

She was currently holed up in Grimmauld Place. At least she did have Teddy; he'd been orphaned a second time when his grandmother Andromeda was murdered and so Harriet was doing everything in her power to keep him safe. They also had Buckbeak the hippogriff with them; Harriet wasn't sure what brought him back, only that she opened the door one day to find the hippogriff waiting on her doorstep.

The similarities were so prevalent that sometimes, when she looked in the mirror, Harriet thought it was Sirius looking back and not her own reflection. It also didn't help that she was planning to do something incredibly reckless and stupid.

"Well, my dears, it's five o'clock," said Harriet. "Shall we be off?"

Buckbeak gave a squawk in response and stood up and they exited the house. Harriet tossed away the bottle of firewhiskey, secured Teddy in a baby harness on her front, and hopped onto Buckbeak's back. She gave a sly grin as they took straight off into the air and began flying straight through London to the amazement of the muggle onlookers. Harriet shot off bursts of light from her wand as they went, causing as much hysteria as she could.

After all, if this was to be her last day on earth, she wanted to go out with as much chaos as she could. It would serve the wizarding world right for all she'd put up with over the years. As expected, a team of aurors was soon on their tail, but Harriet, having more magical talent in her pinky finger than the dregs the DMLE scraped together these days had in their whole bodies, was quickly able to rid herself of them.

More aurors came, but Harriet persisted in heading straight for her goal. Fitting a full-grown hippogriff, a baby, and herself into the phone booth entrance to the Ministry of Magic was no easy feat, even with the mild Extension Charm that was already present on the box. But somehow she did it and the voice on the phone chimed out its question of what business they had there.

"Harriet Potter, Teddy Lupin, and Buckbeak the hippogriff," Harriet replied. "We're here to cause a riot."

Harriet grinned when she read the little silver pin she got in response, _Insurgent_.

* * *

Breaking into the Ministry of Magic had always been laughably easy. Dismantling the entire infrastructure and sending the employees into a blind panic was just for fun. Once Harriet and her two companions had made the descent to the Department of Mysteries, she aimed a well-placed _Bombarda_ at the elevator. A few Unspeakables attempted to rush her, but she took them down without so much as a flinch. Teddy just giggled at the flashes of spellfire that flew past, not a single one having even the faintest chance of hitting him thanks to Harriet.

Harriet dropped a few detonation devices in the Room of Doors before entering the Veil Room. She had a very specific purpose in entering that chamber, the one that had haunted her memories for so long. Ever since she'd died and come back to life, she'd had recurring dreams of the fantasy land of her childhood; they all ended with images of the Veil and a strange force beckoning her to it.

She knew what the dreams were trying to tell her, and something about them reassured her that her godson would be safe travelling with her. Obviously, if she got the faintest impression that her godson could have even the slightest risk going through the Veil then she would never, under any circumstances, even remotely consider taking such action. Something had also told her to ensure the Veil was destroyed when she passed through, hence the copious amounts of explosives.

As they stood there on the threshold of a new life, a kind of peace settled over Harriet. She hated to admit it, even in the privacy of her thoughts, but she felt like she was going home.

"Well, shall we?"

* * *

The last time she had felt such lightness and calm, she'd been one otherworldly train ride away from the Great Beyond. It was blindingly bright and the architecture again brought up memories of the ghostly King's Cross. She just hoped she wouldn't have to see that whiskered wanker Dumbledore again.

"Not to worry, Dumbledore won't be sneaking out again."

Harriet shot up, her gaze darting over to the figure who'd spoken. He was a tall man, but he looked deceptively young and somewhat effete, despite having a rather bored expression. He was clad all over in a gauzy, silver fabric that left only his face exposed.

"He was not even supposed to have met with you the last time you were here," he said. "I had intended to send your mother to meet you, but that old fool slipped his guards and pulled a switch."

"Who are you?" Harriet asked, still incredibly dazed.

"Ah, forgive me, milady." He gave a formal bow. "I was rather remiss in my niceties. I am Námo, or Mandos if you prefer. I am the Doomsman, the Judge of the Dead. And you, noble maiden, are the master of my Hallows."

"Death?"

"To put it bluntly, yes."

"I'm dead, then? If I had known, I would never -"

"You are not dead, and neither are your godson or your pet. They are simply in, oh, what is that word? Processing? I suppose that will have to do. I simply wished to have a few words with you before you move on and answer any questions you might have."

"Uh, okay?"

"Eloquent as always, I see."

"I do have a few questions, uh, Námo. How was I able to move between my world and that other world as a child? And why was I being called back to it now?"

"To be honest with you, I am not certain of the first. None of my kindred understand it, either. Queen Varda is of the opinion that, though you were born into one world, your heart and soul had a great desire and need to be in Middle-Earth. As for the second, I called you because I could sense your need to escape."

"Middle-Earth?"

"That is the world you visited, Harriet. The land of the Shire, to be exact."

"And who is Queen Varda?"

"The Lady of the Stars, consort to Manwë, the High King."

Surprisingly unfazed by the otherwise confusing information, Harriet pressed on.

"And what interest could they possibly have in me?"

"Ah, now that is a question I am afraid I cannot answer. Not yet. I hate having to play the Dumbledore, but under these peculiar circumstances I am bound by certain rules."

"Can you give me a vague idea?"

"Let us simply put it that the Highest Power of all has a grand plan for you, but He wishes for it to be done with as few demands of you as possible. He understands the tribulations you have been through and wants a peaceful end for all."

"So, I'm being used as a chess piece again?" Harriet fought to keep the heat out of her tone.

"Not at all. He doesn't regard people that way. While we may not understand His ways, not even ancient beings such as myself, we cannot doubt His love for His creation."

Harriet paused a moment.

"Are we talking about God?" she said.

"If you are referring to the being the people of your world call 'God' then I believe we are. But things are a little more complicated than that. While they are the same entity, the people of Middle-Earth understand Him in a different way than do the people of your world."

"Well, I was never very religious, so much of this is lost on me."

"And I am explaining that it isn't as cut-and-dried as all that. For instance, in Middle-Earth, I myself am technically regarded as a deity, but in your world I would be known as an archangel."

Harriet sighed and rubbed her brow tiredly. Of course she'd end up being chosen for some unfathomable mission by divine beings.

"Why me?" she asked, more out of frustration than out of a real desire to know.

"That is another thing I am afraid I cannot answer. But why you came to be Master of the Hallows is purely because you are perhaps the sole person in the world who can be trusted with the responsibility. I foresaw you claiming the Hallows long before you were even born, dear Harriet. I have seen your whole life, from its conception to its close."

"If you know so much about me, why haven't you or any of the other angels or whatever you are helped me before now? You could have saved countless lives; you could have prevented so many horrible atrocities…"

Námo simply looked back, unmoved, at her growing ire.

"You clearly do not understand the nature of free will," he said. "The race of Men has always struggled with their own condition. Pain, illness, sorrow, cruelty, death…they are merely transitions to a higher state. I have seen suffering and ruination, I have heard the cries of women and children slaughtered without mercy, I have witnessed honorable young warriors enter my halls far too early; it is not fair for them, but I did not create their misfortunes, that was done by the wills of other men.

"But let me put to you this question, noble witch: Is there disgrace in suffering?"

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Did suffering not teach you to value what you have? Did it not make you stronger, braver, or wiser? Have you not faced down death, willing to give your own life for those you loved, and come out triumphant? Has your suffering left you hollow and uncaring, or do you find you feel the pain of others more acutely and wish to ease their burdens?"

Harriet looked away, unable to think of a response.

"Stimulating though this conversation is," Námo continued, "There is something I desire to tell you. Harriet, all of Middle-Earth is open to you; you may take your godson and the hippogriff and go your merry way, live your lives, and be content. But no world is perfect. I fear that you may be faced with another war, with another Dark Lord, though one with far more power than Tom Riddle could have ever imagined. Only, this time, the burden of being the Chosen One rests with another. And that is all I may speak on the matter."

Harriet nodded mutely. She was on the cusp of freedom, only to have another Dark Lord threatening it. Still, at least it wasn't just her problem.

"Thank you, Námo."

"You are most welcome, Harriet. And thank you for calling me by my preferred name. Everyone insists on referring to me as 'Mandos' and I do miss my old appellation."

"Is this goodbye, then?"

"I rather think we shall see each other again. You are the master of my Hallows, which makes you my representative on Middle-Earth. Oh, before you leave, might I request a favor?"

"I suppose."

"Do give the stuffy wizards of Middle-Earth a bit of trouble. The only sensible one is Radagast, but he mostly just stays in the forests. The ones in blue, whose names I can't ever remember, haven't been seen for some time and shouldn't be anywhere near where you end up. The only others are Gandalf and Saruman, those two you should cause as much chaos for as possible."

"All right," Harriet said with no small amount of confusion.

"Oh, and there's someone waiting for you. You won't see him just yet, and do not concern yourself with time, for it will not affect you the way it will other mortals. I will tell you this: The person you are to meet is someone you already know."

"Is it Sirius?"

"Yes, it's – wait, how did you know?"

"He came through the Veil before me. It was kind of easy to guess."

Let it be known that pouting severely reduces the majestic effect of otherwise ethereal ancient beings.

* * *

Once, in a cozy cottage by a stream in the woods, there lived a witch.

Not the type of witch you would think of upon first hearing the word; not a warty old woman who eats children and curses innocent townsfolk. No, this witch was a young and reasonably fair lady, a representative of good within the world she had so recently entered. She was also a doting mother to her foster son and caring companion to the haughty hippogriff who deigned to reside with them.

Harriet, the witch, had built a humble but comfortable home for them not far from the land of the Shire, a place of peace and happiness she remembered from her occasional visits in her childhood. She had not seen any of her old friends upon arriving, which saddened her; in fact, she had arrived about a year after the mysterious disappearance of Bilbo Baggins, a hobbit that Harriet had briefly been playfellow to on her last visit. She moved east and finally settled outside the Shire, building her house just within the borders of the Old Forest, something which her hobbit neighbors found most peculiar and caused them to fret over her and Teddy's wellbeing.

The hobbits she met were as wary of her as they had been the first time she ever appeared in the Shire, but warmed to her when they saw little Teddy as they found it hard to distrust a child. Harriet had, thankfully, quickly reacquainted herself with the Common Speech that she had learned from the hobbits in her childhood, and Teddy, at two years old, picked up on it readily.

With the coming years, Harriet became a pleasant fixture of the area, though still rather mysterious to the simple folk of the Shire. They generally left her to herself unless she entered their land, in which case she would be welcomed most politely; she often volunteered to help them with small problems, recovering missing livestock or assisting elderly hobbits with chores. It was a simple and yet rewarding way of life. She lived closest to Buckland, and the hobbits there, though cautious, were the most welcoming.

Not that Harriet couldn't live somewhere else if she chose. She had enough gold and gems hidden in her home to run a medium-sized country. Very little of her money came from her own inheritance (the Potters were well-off, but not exceedingly wealthy); a good portion came from Sirius, and the rest she had plundered from the Death Eaters and their supporters (Harriet having stolen their vault keys and family heirlooms before her departure). In her preparations for leaving, she had gathered up everything she could find that was even remotely valuable or useful and piled it into a bottomless trunk, which she then shrank and hid inside the mokeskin pouch she wore around her neck.

She didn't see any point in living anywhere else, though that certainly didn't stop her from travelling a bit. She would make the occasional trip to Bree, if only to see other humans and get some understanding of her new world. Though fascinated by the stories she heard, and interested in travelling in the future, Harriet contented herself with her current situation of raising Teddy and practicing her magic.

She knew the other shoe would drop sooner or later; for now, though, she just wanted to enjoy the peace she had.

* * *

 **Author's Note** **: Been considering this one for a while. Basically, a Harriet Potter goes to Middle-Earth to do whatever. Not sure about pairings, but definitely not having Legolas as Harriet's love interest (it's been done too much).**

 **If I do pair Harriet with an elf, it would have to be Glorfindel, the badass balrog-slayer from Gondolin whose pure awesomeness led the Valar to bring him back to life and send him off on a mission like what they assigned to the wizards (he's also the guy who made the prophecy about no man being able to kill the Witch-King; also, he's Lord of the House of the Golden Flower and his name means "Goldtress" because his hair was golden; oh, and in the original draft, Glorfindel was supposed to have Legolas' place in the Fellowship).**

 **My other options would be Boromir (just because),** **Éomer (because I have literally _never_ seen this pairing done), or Aragorn (but only by popular demand, I have little inclination to do so on my own inclination).**

 **If I do continue with this, I will put up a poll to see what my readers would prefer in terms of pairings.**


	7. At Sixes or at Sevens

**Woe is me. I have stumbled into that dark realm that is the Game of Thrones fandom. I'm actually glad I read the spoilers before I started watching the show, just because it's softened the blows whenever tragedy strikes. This is actually the first time I've gotten into a television/film-based fandom before reading the books (although I have every intention of doing so).**

 **I do intend to make this into a full-length story, but I want to finish The Purge before publishing anything new. It's just, I've gotten on a writing kick for this idea and have already gotten quite a few chapters and a basic story outline more or less done.**

 **Anyway, enjoy!**

At Sixes or at Sevens

To be perfectly honest, she hadn't expected much when they all decided to walk through the Veil.

Oblivion was rather high on the list of possibilities; although, seeing as how she had once stood on the doorstep of the afterlife, proving that the soul does go somewhere after death, she had thought there might be something more entertaining than a dark void. At least it was warm. Of course, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was someone else there. Waiting and watching. Sometimes, she was certain she could hear muffled voices in the dark.

There was a moment when the void seemed to shift rather violently around her. She was certain that there was screaming then. Everything went silent for a while after that.

That was when the universe let her know it wasn't finished with her, yet, and Harriet Potter's world erupted into pain as she was forced out into blinding light, soaking wet, and screaming her own head off.

"By the gods!" a voice exclaimed somewhere in the light. "This is remarkable."

"Stop standing there and do something!" a female voice shrieked in outrage.

Harriet found herself being lifted up and dried off with a towel. As the panic drifted away and her eyes adjusted to the light, she took in the scene of a luxurious bedroom straight out of a medieval fantasy, or a wealthy pureblood's house. As she took stock of the size of the room, it dawned on her…she'd just been born.

 _Well, fuck!_ Harriet thought to herself.

She then glanced around for the people she'd heard speaking before. The woman, whom Harriet assumed was her new mother, was a gorgeous blonde who was currently being tended by a group of handmaidens and an old man in weathered robes who kept tutting about 'medical marvels.'

"How could this have happened?" the woman asked. "I just lost a child a few weeks ago and yet there's another one, alive and healthy."

"It is an unusual occurrence, Your Grace," said the old man. "However, it has been known to happen, every now and then. A set of twins in which one is born and the other is not delivered until sometime after. I believe the record is five weeks."

The woman paused in thought and looked over at Harriet with a slight frown.

"Let me see it," she said.

"I believe you mean 'her,' Your Grace," said the man. "Oh, do forgive me for speaking out of turn."

"Her, then. Let me see _her_."

The man came over and picked Harriet up again and brought her over to the waiting arms of her new mother. Harriet looked up at the woman and the woman looked back. They became locked in a staring contest for a few minutes before the woman looked away and dismissed her attendants. The woman then looked back at her, a somewhat troubled expression on her face.

"Twins," she said at long last. "If I had known it would be twins, I wouldn't have poisoned the boy."

Harriet was, understandably, uncomfortable with that statement.

"If I had known you and your brother would be twins, I would have let him live. I expected him to be like Robert, but, all along, he could have been like Jaime. I…was far too hasty. That was a horrible mistake."

 _Lady, I don't know who the fuck you're talking about_ , Harriet thought, _but if you're confessing to killing babies, and in front of your own newborn, then I need to get the hell out of this nuthouse._

"Oh, well, I suppose what's done is done." The woman looked Harriet up and down and smirked. "You are _my_ _daughter_. And you are worth a thousand of any sons your worthless father sires, which I have no doubt he has by now, knowing what his tendencies are." The woman then gave a slightly vicious laugh that eliminated any hopes Harriet might have had for her sanity. "And you will be the first _and last_ legitimate child he will ever see. His only trueborn child will be a daughter. A fitting retribution, even if he doesn't know it."

Unseen by the clearly unhinged woman, Harriet's eyes were darting back and forth in search of something to knock her out with so she could make good her escape. She may be in a newborn's body, but she could feel the magic pulsing in her veins. Just one quick levitation charm on a nearby fruit bowl, and she would be out of here. Before she could make her bid for freedom, though, the door slammed open and a large, muscular, bearded man with black hair and blue eyes marched into the room.

"So, it's true, then?" he said.

"The Seven have decided to give us a compensation for the pain our son's death has brought us," the woman answered, hardly missing a beat. Harriet wondered how quickly she'd thought that line up, considering the woman had just admitted to being responsible for said death. "She may not be the son you wanted, but she was strong enough to live while he died."

"Let me see her."

Harriet felt the woman tense and then grudgingly put her into the hands of the man, whom Harriet had realized was her new father. He looked down at her, studying her as her new mother had. Harriet decided, then and there, that if she was going to get ahead in this new world, she'd have to find ways of ingratiating herself with people. Her new father was clearly a man of high standing, a lord or possibly even a king, if she had to judge, as her new mother had been addressed as 'Your Grace,' which was generally an honorific for members of the aristocracy. Harriet sent out a quick Legilimency probe to scan his surface thoughts and determine what her new father wanted to see in her.

She got the image of a pretty, dark-haired woman who had become idealized in his mind. The memory was riddled with pain and longing; the woman had been his intended bride, and he wanted nothing less than a child who reflected the one they would have had if she had lived.

Quickly withdrawing from the thoughts, Harriet tilted her head and gave a small smile before shyly tugging on his beard and burbling something that sounded like "Ga-Ga!" Harriet watched him crumble a bit at the sweet, little act she was putting on. A few years ago, Harriet might have been uncomfortable manipulating people's emotions like that, but, then again, that was the Harriet Potter who hadn't had to see men, women, and children brutally tortured to death and then been faced with an apocalypse that drove her and her companions through the Veil rather than stick around and wait for the end.

Her new father handed her back to her new mother, his eyes never leaving her.

"I am afraid I have not prepared a name for her," he admitted. Harriet scanned his thoughts again and saw that that was a lie. He wanted to name her 'Lyanna,' but didn't want to face the headache his wife would give him for doing so.

"It is a good thing that I have, then, isn't it?" the woman said with a smirk. "I favor the name 'Joanna.' After my mother."

"Well, I don't favor it. It might have been fine for your mother, but I do not wish to give a Lannister name to a daughter of House Baratheon."

The woman scowled fiercely. That was when the argument started and Harriet realized that this was how her life was going to be from now on, trapped between a drunken lout pining for a dead woman and a scheming bitch who was prepared to kill anyone just because she didn't like them. So, all in all, par for the course in Harriet's experience.

They eventually settled on a name, "Rietta," which, in Harriet's understanding, was simply a rather archaic diminutive for "Harriet." The decision may or may not have been the result of Harriet providing a bit of magical influence, but it wasn't like anyone could accuse a newborn of doing something like that. Anyone who tried would be laughed out of court and hauled off to a looney bin.

In that moment, Harriet knew she had to let her old self die to a certain extent. If she was going to make it in this new world, she would have to be the new person she had been born as. She couldn't be Harriet Lily Potter, anymore. From that moment and onward, she would be Princess Rietta of House Baratheon.

* * *

The murder attempts that soon followed her birth saw Princess Rietta given another moniker.

She was only a few weeks old, already astounding her family with her cognitive prowess, and was sitting in her cradle. The wet-nurse had stepped out (dear God, having to breastfeed was so embarrassing; to say nothing of having to wear nappies) and a dark-clad figure crept into the room and, in a scene mirroring Classical myth, slipped a venomous snake into the cradle before making his departure. Rietta, despite her young age, was already developing her ability to speak and so decided to see if she could still communicate with snakes before simply relying on magic to get rid of the creature.

As it happened, she could get a few words across, causing the snake to decide not to attack the mysterious human child who could miraculously understand it. Of course, when the wet-nurse came back and saw the deadly serpent in the princess' cradle, she screamed at the top of her lungs. One of the guards was summoned to remove the snake, but not before the scene had been witnessed by a good dozen people. The sight of the newborn princess laughing as she held the snake in her hand was regarded as a sign that the gods had taken a special interest in the girl, and also cemented in many people's minds the notion that such an omen represented Robert's defeat of the Targaryen family (after all, what was a dragon but a giant serpent that could breathe fire?).

Not long after that, a masked assailant tried to butcher the girl and her mother in a corridor they were passing through on a walk. As the man raised a knife to stab the child in her mother's arms, he suddenly, and inexplicably, tripped over his own feet, fell backwards, and impaled his own dagger through his head. Queen Cersei and her handmaidens had looked from the dead man to the giggling baby and began to truly suspect there was something going on with the child.

Several more such instances saw the young princess being called "Rietta the Undying" and "The Stranger's Daughter." Whispers ran rampant through the Red Keep that the child had been marked by the Stranger, that she couldn't be killed by mortal hands. Whenever the princess was present in a room, people tried to stand as near to her as possible, as though by proximity alone they, too, could be shielded from any potential threats. Even Queen Cersei refused to let the princess out of her sight when possible and would often carry the child, herself, rather than allow a handmaiden or nursemaid to do so.

* * *

When her brother Joffrey was born, Rietta couldn't help but have a feeling of impending dread.

While she'd always wanted siblings, due to her lonely childhood in her previous life, Rietta sensed something very dark lingering around her newborn brother. Oh, she'd cooed and hugged him as much as a one-year-old is capable of doing, but the glint in his eyes made her uneasy. Rietta had always considered herself a nurture over nature type of person, trying to explain the wickedness in humanity as being more the result of poor moral upbringing and a lack of responsible role models. However, she was willing to admit that, sometimes, things in nature can be 'wired' incorrectly and cause a person to grow up without the ability to experience emotions the way most normal people do.

Rietta would bet all the gold in Gringotts that Joffrey's mental wires looked like they'd been ripped out with rusty pliers, shuffled in with some mental wires from a lethifold and a nundu, sent through a mixmaster, and then been reinstalled by a modern art student…on LSD. Still, Rietta would try to give her brother the benefit of the doubt, and ensure he had some semblance of moral guidance (reinforced, if necessary, by defenestration and other sensible and reasonable forms of child discipline).

Things were much easier later with Myrcella and Tommen, who were sweetness and innocence personified. Rietta even took to calling them her "Squishies" because of how often she hugged them. Oh, she would hug Joffrey, too, but there was always a subtle warning on her part whenever she did so, as the proximity allowed her to give a few polite threats.

* * *

The years gently drifted by. And Princess Rietta filled them with absolute mayhem.

Rietta had no intention of sticking to the background, despite her careful crafting of her persona as a gentle, delicate, little flower of a princess. Her father, of course, had bought into it completely and was extremely overprotective of her. Not that it stopped Rietta from going on occasional adventures.

In fact, her first grand adventure came when she had been only four years old. As she had not, at that point, visited her mother's family's ancestral seat, the little princess had taken a pony from the royal stables and set off alone to visit Casterly Rock and meet the other members of her mother's family, as she frequently saw her uncle Jaime and had met her grandfather only once, briefly. Of course, during the trip, she'd had to kill one or two bandits that had tried to impede her journey, but that wasn't important. And, then, when she showed up so suddenly, covered in mud and completely unescorted, her grandfather had sent a scathing letter to her mother about how the woman could be so careless as to let a _four-year-old_ make such a treacherous journey alone.

Lord Tywin, of course, ensured that his granddaughter was watched carefully throughout her stay as they waited for her parents to come and collect her. Rietta responded by playing up her cute, little princess act. While her grandfather had not paid her much mind on the last occasion he'd seen her, having her at Casterly Rock meant she was well-placed to quickly have him wrapped around her little finger. After all, Rietta could read minds (to a certain extent, as her magic had proven to be slightly limited in this world), and she knew what he hoped to see in her was a semblance of her grandmother, Joanna. It was much like how she'd gotten her father to dote on her; it was cruel and manipulative, but it was all necessary for her survival in this world where familial love almost always came with conditions.

And, in a way, Rietta had to admit she enjoyed the attention when she earned proud and approving looks from her new family. As a young child in her old world, she'd tried relentlessly to earn the Dursleys' affection, only to have her hopes, and, sometimes, her own self, beaten down. While she'd often claimed in later years that she hated any form of attention, that wasn't exactly true; she hated the Girl-Who-Lived hype, certainly, but the attention she got from winning a Quidditch match or being congratulated on good work by her professors was something else, entirely.

In this world, she had a clean slate and no Girl-Who-Lived nonsense dogging her (though her reputation for surviving murder attempts had given her some similar regard, much to her annoyance, though it couldn't be helped). She had a completely new and considerably more unpredictable family, but it was several times larger than what she used to have, and her new family didn't hate her on principle. Certainly they were dangerous and, in some cases, psychotic, but Rietta was willing to play things out.

When it came to her first stay at Casterly Rock, Rietta had made quite a strong impression, and not just because of the manner of her arrival. She charmed her otherwise impassive grandfather with her very un-childlike intellect and her complete inability to be intimidated by his initial sternness; from what she gathered from his thoughts, he respected cunning, properly-directed ambition, and intelligence. So, when Rietta asked him about how House Lannister earned its wealth, and brought his attention to the need to supplement their income should the family goldmines dry up, Tywin was, understandably, impressed.

She also endeared herself to her uncle Tyrion Lannister, whom she decided was her favorite uncle. She won him over when he saw her making faces behind her grandfather's back when Tywin was delivering some long-winded lecture on responsibility and duty that Rietta had only half-listened to. It also helped their relationship that she was one of the few people who did not look down on him (in either senses of the word, at the time, as, at four, Rietta was still physically about the same size as her uncle).

* * *

When she was five years old, Rietta was reunited with a familiar face.

A new nursemaid, a young woman named 'Alessa Gwyn,' had been hired at the palace to tend to the royal children, bringing with her a daughter of her own. While her hair was not as brown as it once was, being lighter and with the faintest hint of blonde, there was no mistaking that uncontrollable bush, nor those large front teeth. Hermione Granger had been reborn as little Mya Gwyn, the princess' new playmate.

While the queen was busy giving her long list of instructions to Alessa about how the royal children were to be reared, Rietta turned to 'Mya' and gave a knowing grin.

"The watchword is 'spew.'"

The other girl narrowed her eyes and replied: "It's 'S.P.E.W.'"

The two started laughing, drawing looks from the women.

"Mother," Rietta said, "I wish to go and play in the gardens with my new friend."

Queen Cersei gave a faint nod and turned back to young Alessa.

"My daughter seems to approve of yours as a playfellow," she said. "Do ensure, though, that your child does not forget her place."

"Of course, My Queen," said Alessa.

Once the two girls were escorted to the gardens and given leave to frolic as they would, Rietta and Mya took a seat on a nearby bench.

"I almost didn't recognize you, Harry," said the girl now revealed to be a reborn Hermione Granger.

"What, because I don't have the scar? Or is it because my knees aren't knobby and I don't wear glasses?" said Rietta.

"Well, yes, and because your eyes are blue."

"Ah, that. They have been known to change, though."

"What?"

"I looked in a mirror while focusing on my magic, once. Got the old emeralds back for a few moments."

"Intriguing. I suppose we should all expect to look a bit different."

"You believe the others have made it, too?"

"I don't see why not. We're both here, after all."

"Fair point. Where could they be, though?"

"It's a big world. They could have been reborn anywhere."

"We'll just have to be vigilant."

"Constantly so."

"So, how's life been for you? Your new mother seems nice."

"She's not my real mother, though."

"What?"

"She was my real mother's handmaid. I don't remember much as she died during the Sack of King's Landing."

"Wait, that was before I was born here."

"I was also about a year old when it happened. It seems we all may have arrived at different times. Though, hopefully, the others will only be a couple years apart from us rather than whole centuries."

"Do you remember anything about your mother? Or your father?"

"I remember they were both rather on in years. I think my father may have been some sort of noble, but I'm not really certain. All I know is that my mother was in hiding and pretending to be dead for some reason. My father visited a few times, but after the Sacking was over and my mother was dead, Alessa took me and ran. I remember we traveled a little bit, even visited her mother and sister."

"What happened, then? Why didn't you both remain…wherever it was you were?"

"Alessa's mother got sick and she had to find work with good pay. We came back here and learned the queen was looking for a new nursemaid for her children so Alessa decided to apply."

"It seems she made the cut. Amazing coincidence, that."

"I think it was because Alessa was the only one of the candidates who is average-looking enough for your father to not try and seduce."

"I _thought_ the pretty ones got rejected rather quickly. My mother can be a bit…"

"Territorial?"

"I was going to say 'completely psychotic, jealous bitch,' but, sure, let's go with that."

* * *

The following years were interesting, to say the least.

Mya's influence helped to rein in some of Rietta's more impulsive tendencies as they worked on their long-term plans for their new lives. Rietta still took impromptu adventures, but, at Mya's insistence, started leaving notices behind to inform her family of where she was going.

The two friends also did what they could to practice their magic. They had already known some wandless spells that they had used to defend themselves in the past. However, without their wands, they couldn't do magic to the same extent they had in their old lives. Being deprived of wands did not deter them, though. Mya's skills with potions, runes, and arithmancy provided them with an alternate source of magic that they could rely on. Rietta, though, truly depended on her spells, as she had never been particularly skilled at the more scholarly forms of magic.

Mya's presence also reminded Rietta that there were pressing social issues that needed to be corrected if Westeros was ever going to improve. Health, housing, education, sanitation, legal rights, and many other necessities of a functional and prosperous society that were blatantly ignored by the men in power. And Rietta was determined to correct that. It was going to be extremely difficult as she was both a child and a girl. However, Mya was there to remind her that common sense and reason can triumph over personal biases, ignorance, and basic stupidity if the people who possess the better qualities find likeminded allies with whom they can conspire and outwit those with the serious personal failings.

And find those likeminded allies, those two girls did.

The first person that they were able to form a conspiracy with was, oddly enough, the least trusting and, simultaneously, most suspicious man in all of Westeros. None other than the Master of Whisperers, Varys, himself. Despite Mya's unease about the man, well-known for his dubious loyalty, Rietta considered him a reliable partner in their scheme as he made it very clear that the one loyalty he would never abandon was to the Realm. All Rietta had to do was make a few suggestions about affordable schooling for less fortunate children, designs for a sewer and drainage system, and the institution of a fire brigade and the mysterious eunuch was convinced of Rietta's potential usefulness to the wellbeing of the Realm.

It was Mya who found their second great ally. Quite by chance, the girl had brought the Hand of the King, Jon Arryn, into their plotting.

Mya had been reading in the palace gardens one afternoon only a few months after she'd reunited with Rietta. She saw the elderly Lord Arryn taking a stroll and heard him muttering his thoughts. He saw her sitting there and stopped.

"You there, girl," he said.

"My Lord Hand," Mya replied, rising from her seat and curtseying.

"What's your name?"

"Mya, My Lord. Mya Gwyn. I serve Princess Rietta."

He stared at her for another long moment.

"I have heard it said that children speak truthfully," he then continued. "What do you think of your king?"

"My Lord?"

"Go on, speak up, child. And none of the courtly lies. You've no need to fear me, I shan't tell anyone what you say if you say it true."

"My Lord, I…if you wish my truthful opinion, I feel the king is not doing right by the people. The Mad King is gone, but the wounds inflicted on Westeros have yet to heal and the king has done little to remedy that. His debauchery will send the Seven Kingdoms into mounting debt and his swift temper will cause wounds to the pride of the other houses."

"You are very clever and well-spoken for a girl of your years. Pray, what is your age?"

"I am six namedays, soon to be seven, My Lord."

"You were born before the Sack of King's Landing, then?"

"Yes, My Lord. My mother worked as a handmaiden to a noble lady who was killed in the Sacking. She now serves as the royal nursemaid."

"And your father?"

"She never speaks of him, My Lord."

"I see. One thing puzzles me, though. How does a servant's daughter become so clever? And you can read, too. Who has been there to teach you?"

"Forgive me, My Lord, if I may boast, but I have always been of a studious nature. My mother can read, too, as her former mistress taught her, and she spares what money she can to buy me things to read."

"That is good, then. This world would be a better place if more people read. And what of your princess? Does she favor a servant who can read?"

"Princess Rietta has granted me leave to read any of the books in her possession. She and I also talk together about what we would do if we ran the kingdoms."

"Very well, then, girl, what would you do?"

Mya shared a few of the ideas she and Rietta had brainstormed. When Lord Arryn asked how they planned to accomplish their goals, Mya inadvertently slipped into her 'young Hermione' mode and started explaining at length in somewhat long-winded speeches. Lord Arryn didn't seem to mind, though, and was able to understand the key points of her little lecture. At the end of their meeting, Lord Arryn appeared quite taken with the precocious child and began to meet with her and Princess Rietta, if only to have conversations about their studies and what other grand schemes they had to improve the Seven Kingdoms.

A couple years after starting their amiable relationship with the Hand of the King, though, Rietta and Mya became involved in something he had been looking into. Jon Arryn had been seeking out King Robert's bastards. Rietta, of course, immediately jumped at the chance to find her half-siblings and make sure they were safe and happy. Whenever one was found, Rietta would make sure the child was given a small, silver pendant in the shape of the Deathly Hallows and made to promise never to give it away; the pendants had tiny runes engraved into them to form tracking spells, so that Rietta could ensure she would know where to find them if the worst should happen.

The worst almost did happen, as it turned out, after a family visit to Casterly Rock when Rietta was about fourteen. Her father had gotten a servant girl pregnant and she gave birth to twins. It was only thanks to Rietta that the servant and her children were smuggled out before the queen got hold of them.

Oddly enough, the place Rietta found best to hide her father's bastards was in King's Landing, itself. Hidden in plain view, the children were being raised at a set of schools for the smallfolk that Rietta had established as part of her 'public relations' project, as she called it. After explaining to her grandfather the significant impact that providing such useful services as education to the poor could bring, both in terms of reputation and in planning for the financial future (as the students of such schools would go straight to work in the businesses owned by the family once they were ready), he had provided her with the funding she needed to build her schools on the understanding that his 'charitable actions' would be used to bolster the image of both the Crown and the Lannisters.

There were two large institutions and a number of smaller, district-based schools. The larger schools were live-in institutions, filled with orphans and single-parent families. These were the House of Stags, for boys and young men, and the House of Lilies, for girls and young women. The institutions operated side-by-side and single parents were allowed to reside alongside their children, provided that they participated in the running of the schools.

Rietta even managed to secretly slip a rider into a set of acts awaiting approval by the king and the Small Council to have the schools officially proclaimed neutral zones (because no one bothers to read the riders if the bill is important enough). It would mean, therefore, that the schools could not be searched without a warrant clarifying the intention of the searchers and no student or staff member could be taken without being charged with a crime. Not five months after she had that approved, Rietta had to use it to get some men, whom she suspected had been hired by her mother, to back off as they had been tasked with searching out and seizing some of the king's possible bastards. As being a bastard was not, technically, a crime, the men had no grounds to search the premises.

Rietta, herself, made frequent visits to both the major institutions and the smaller schools to ensure they were running the way she wished them to. She also used these visits as an excuse to visit her bastard half-siblings, whom she doted on as much as she could.

Rietta was also able to tell which of the students were her half-siblings thanks to a nifty little potion that would soon become rather well-known. It was referred to as the 'Legitimacy Potion,' though Mya always scoffed at that as it was actually a modified version of the 'Heritage Test Potion.' For obvious reasons, Rietta and Mya couldn't use the magical aspect of it to reveal a person's full ancestry, but they did manage to alter it so that it would change color depending on familial connection according to the DNA sample provided (with hair being the most common testing material).

While Mya was the true creator of this potion (or, rather, modifier, as the original potion existed in their old world), it was agreed that people would not take it seriously if a girl was credited as its maker. So, they recruited the services of a rather unconventional, dechained maester to be the front for it, as well as hiring him to assist them in further research. The seemingly benign man agreed, and was given a private laboratory in the castle to conduct his experiments on the condition that he receive Rietta's approval before conducting any experiments on humans. Qyburn was quite satisfied with the terms of his employment, though, as it was the best opportunity he could have hoped for considering his rather tainted reputation. They even had him perform the official test-run of the potion in front of the court, in which Rietta, herself, offered a sample of her hair to be tested in the potion and proved, publically, that she was her father's legitimate child (Rietta couldn't help but notice how her mother had tensed when the demonstration began, but then relaxed when it was Rietta who was called on).

All in all, though, Rietta admitted it was the happiest time she'd ever had growing up. It would have been better if she knew where all her other friends were, but she could be patient. Little did she know that the peace was not to last and that the time was coming when the life Rietta had come to know would soon face a storm that would threaten to destroy everything she had tried to build.


End file.
